


The Five Stages of Love

by snibnoom



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Break Up, First Dates, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Then fluff, angst angst angst, communication is key
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 07:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14689124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snibnoom/pseuds/snibnoom
Summary: Don’t cry over Jinwoo. Don’t cry over Jinwoo.After five years of what Eunwoo thought was a great and healthy relationship, Jinwoo has decided to toss it all into the dumpster. Eunwoo isn't so quick to let go, however. He knows their relationship is worth salvaging... or is it?





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astrorarepairs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrorarepairs/gifts).
  * Inspired by [rarepair drabble collection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14021811) by [astrorarepairs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrorarepairs/pseuds/astrorarepairs). 



_Wake up. Make coffee. Don’t try to wake Jinwoo. Take a shower. Get dressed. Don’t press a kiss on Jinwoo’s forehead before heading out. Stare out the window on the bus. Don’t send Jinwoo a good morning text. File paperwork. Don’t text Jinwoo to remind him to eat. Take a break from work. Don’t text Jinwoo. Don’t have lunch with Jinwoo. Return to work. Try not to think about Jinwoo. Leave work. Stare out the window on the bus. Get home. Resist the urge to make dinner for Jinwoo. Make dinner for Jinwoo anyway. Drink tea. Don’t text Jinwoo and see if he’s on his way home from work. Don’t greet Jinwoo at the door. Don’t give Jinwoo a kiss once he’s settled into the couch with dinner. Don’t crawl into bed beside Jinwoo. Don’t cry over Jinwoo. Don’t cry over Jinwoo._

 

_Don’t cry over Jinwoo._

 

_Don’t cry over Jinwoo._

 

_Sleep. Wake up. Repeat._

 

* * *

 

  _5_ _years. 7 months. 5 days._

Dongmin supposes his friends, family, and co-workers are all right about the situation. Their relationship is over. Jinwoo hasn’t made a single romantic comment towards Dongmin since that night three months ago. Jinwoo’s words threw their relationship to the edge of the abyss, leaving it caught on the edge by the string of hope in Dongmin’s heart that is only getting weaker with each day.

Dongmin tosses back his blankets, but he doesn’t get up. He stares at the ceiling of the room that was once only their office. Since the split in their relationship, Dongmin has made it a second bedroom. His cheap one-person bed is pressed as far away from the door as can be, wedged into the small area between the desk they purchased from a yard sale and the one wall in the room they’ve painted bright blue. The room is uncomfortably narrow, hardly large enough for a bed, definitely not large enough for a dresser or any other large piece of furniture. In fact, Dongmin’s clothes still live beside Jinwoo’s because the room is so cramped.

Dongmin drags his feet into his house shoes. They scrape across the floor as he exits the temporary bedroom room directly into their tiled-floor kitchen. The coffee maker drones on as Dongmin rubs at his eyes. It sputters a little and Dongmin taps it on its side, the dark brown liquid pouring out normally again. He has told Jinwoo for months that they need a new coffee maker before this one breaks, but Jinwoo has just found small quirks in the machine to keep it going for one more day.

 

* * *

 

  _4 years. 9 months. 17 days._

 

Dongmin chewed on his bottom lip, watching Jinwoo sprawled out on the floor. He took each part off the main body of the coffee machine at a snail’s pace, setting them aside one by one as if they would break if he moved too quick. None of it seemed to have any order, but when Dongmin pointed that out five minutes ago, Jinwoo hushed him with a wave of his hand in the air.

 

“Jinwoo, I don’t think you’re—”

 

“ _Dongmin_. I can fix this, okay? It’s like any other simple machine. I just need to find what’s wrong with it.”

 

Dongmin pulled a pillow against his chest, hugging it as he watched Jinwoo tinkering with the device.

 

* * *

 

  _5 years. 7 months. 5 days._

 

It’s apparent to Dongmin now that Jinwoo never managed to fix the machine. He sips his coffee, scowling at the heat before setting it on the counter. Dongmin removes his house shoes before going to the bedroom to avoid the noise they make. He opens the bedroom door slowly, hoping it won’t squeak. They’ve meant to fix the door for ages, too, but neither of them has gotten around to doing so. Things happened, and they’ve stayed that way. Dongmin doesn’t remember when it first happened. When was the first time something broke and neither of them bothered to fix it?

 

Dongmin shuffles around in his two drawers of clothes and slides hangers quietly in the closet as he searches for the right pieces for his uniform. He technically doesn’t have a uniform, but Dongmin made one for himself, wearing a nice pair of khaki pants and a blue polo to work every single day. Before leaving the room, however, Dongmin hesitates. Jinwoo’s face is half hidden from view by the pillow. His leg pokes out from the blankets, contorted at a weird angle. He looks uncomfortable. Dongmin wants to set his clothes to the side and twist Jinwoo’s body around for him, but he doesn’t. He keeps his clothes in hand and vacates the room.

 

The shower is too cold. Dongmin’s coffee is cold by the time he’s done with his shower. The wind outside is cold, biting Dongmin’s skin where it’s not covered by his scarf or jacket or beanie. The bus is cold, too. Dongmin shoves his hands into his jacket as he walks to the company from the bus stop, chin shoved as far into his scarf as he can manage, the cold gusts nearly taking his beanie off.

 

Dongmin greets Suyeon, who works at the front desk, with a tired wave. She smiles her front-desk-secretary-smile at him as he taps his card against the sensor to let himself further into the building. The IT office is on the third floor, and Dongmin is the first one to arrive, as usual. He goes about the task of flipping on every computer in the room, making sure each one is up to date. The time ticks by slowly as Dongmin patiently waits. A lot of his job seems to be waiting, which Dongmin has never complained about before. It’s always given him time to text Jinwoo in the morning to see if he’s awake and getting to his job on time. For the last three months, however, Dongmin hasn’t done that, at least not every day. He’s trying to get over Jinwoo, but it’s sort of hard to do when their lives haven’t changed much.

 

Another employee on the sixth-floor calls Dongmin to check on their computer. Dongmin drags his feet on the way to the elevator, stuck in his thoughts. When had everything started to go wrong?

 

* * *

 

  _0 years. 0 months. 2 days._

 

Dongmin left the classroom in a hurry, his heart pounding in his chest. It was unlike him to be eager so easily but having lunch with Jinwoo sounded like the best lunch ever. On most normal days, Dongmin ate lunch alone. He didn’t have a ton of friends, just Myungjun, and Minhyuk by association, and Jinwoo, of course. He had been friends with Jinwoo until two days ago, but now they were more. They were an item. They were a _couple_.

 

The thought of being in a relationship with Jinwoo sent shivers down Dongmin’s spine. Having what he wished for becoming a reality had been nothing short of Earth-shattering.

 

The restaurant wasn’t too far from the campus. Dongmin walked into the restaurant with a skip in his step. He was greeted warmly by the smell of burgers and fries mingling with the stronger smell of more traditionally Korean foods. His mind barely had time to wrap around the scents, however, as he quickly spotted Jinwoo waving at him from a booth.

 

“Okay,” Jinwoo said as Dongmin slid in across from him, “this place has _the_ best fries I have ever had. You’re getting the fries.”

 

Dongmin laughed. “I don’t have a choice?”

 

Jinwoo shook his head. “Nope. I’m skipping class to have lunch with you, so you don’t have a choice.”

 

Dongmin stared at Jinwoo. “You’re skipping class?”

 

Jinwoo smirked, nodding confidently. “Just for you.”

 

* * *

 

_5 years. 7 months. 5 days._

 

Dongmin huddles into his jacket at the bus stop. He’s already dropped his work backpack off at home and changed clothes, so now he waits for the third bus to take him to Itaewon where he’ll meet Bin and Myungjun like he has every Friday night for as long as he can remember. They’ll end up drinking themselves to the point of not being able to stand without stumbling, and Dongmin will have to call a taxi for them. It’s not unusual for Dongmin to see them all the way to their apartment so that he knows his friends are safe at home, though he usually made that journey with Jinwoo at his side.

 

Despite it being a quarter until seven when Dongmin arrives, the patio around their usual bar is already alive with chatter and pre-parties. Dongmin is fairly certain he can hear someone busking, strumming away on their guitar. The early winter setting sun is casting a glow over the street, the orange tint making the neon shop lights buzz, drawing Dongmin’s attention momentarily before he hears a shout.

 

“Minnie! Min Min!”

 

Dongmin makes his way towards Myungjun’s shouting, following the sound of loud giggles. It isn’t hard to spot Myungjun seated beside Bin in the bar. They’re a bit too close together. The drinks have turned Bin’s cheeks a light shade of pink already, a sign they’ve been here for longer than usual.

 

“We’re doing a”—Myungjun hiccups—“an experiment.”

 

Dongmin slides into the seat beside Bin, rolling his eyes. “And what would that be?”

 

“We’re testing every single drink on the menu,” Bin slurs, leaning over a bit too much in his seat. “We’re finding the grossest drink so that we never order it again.”

 

Dongmin snorts in amusement. When the bartender brings Bin and Myungjun four drinks at once, Dongmin politely asks for a beer. He sits there, watching his friends down every drink there is, wondering how high their tab is, curious what would happen if he stayed out all night. Would Jinwoo call him if he never returned home? Would Jinwoo bother keeping in contact with him at all if Dongmin gave up on trying to fix their relationship? Dongmin assumes the answer to his questions is yes. Jinwoo had said (and Dongmin hated to remember it) he still cares for Dongmin, but he isn’t in love with him. He loves Dongmin, but he isn’t _in love_ with him. Dongmin’s chest burns.

 

A few hours into watching Myungjun and Bin drink themselves sick, Dongmin waves his hand to get their attention. “Guys, hey, I gotta go. It’s my turn to cook dinner.”

 

Bin groans, rolling his head onto his shoulder as he looks at Dongmin. “I don’t get why you’re still living with him. I mean—” Bin hiccups, frowning deeply.

 

“What Binnie is trying to say is you should leave _him_ ,” Myungjun says, leaning around Bin to look at Dongmin. “You’re too good for him. He broke your heart, and you let him get away with it.”

 

Dongmin pushes his beer away on the counter. He’s heard this same rant at least a dozen times from Bin and Myungjun, both drunk and sober. Have they expressed similar sentiments to Jinwoo? He is their friend, too, after all.

 

“If you guys truly want to have this conversation again, we’ll do it when you’re sober.” Dongmin stands from his chair. “I gotta go.”

 

Dongmin’s phone buzzes in his pocket, saving him from having to listen to another word from either Myungjun or Bin. He knows they mean well but hearing the same argument time and time again has gotten old. Dongmin knows what he’s doing even if it seems like he doesn’t.

 

The picture of Jinwoo that lights up Dongmin’s phone makes his stomach twist with twenty different feelings. He answers it quickly, pressing his fingers against his other ear to hopefully make it easier to hear.

 

“Dongmin!” Jinwoo says cheerfully through the phone. “You’re still at the bar, right?”

 

Dongmin’s brows pull together. “Yeah, why?”

 

“I’m outside. I figured we would stop for takeout then head back?”

 

Dongmin swallows. Before three months ago, that was their Friday tradition. Dongmin would meet with their friends and have a few drinks, then Jinwoo would show up after closing his tattoo shop a few blocks away with a promise to pay for takeout (though Dongmin ended up paying more often than not). They haven’t done it since breaking up, so why had Jinwoo come now, after all this time? However, the string of hope tightens around Dongmin’s heart, and he smiles, ducking his head.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Dongmin says, “sounds good. I’ll be out in a second.”

 

When Dongmin turns to face Myungjun and Bin, they both have the same expression plastered on their faces. It’s part disappointment, part acceptance, and part confusion.

 

“Move in with us,” Bin whines. “It’ll be a party every night! And you know our couch pulls out into a bed. It’s super comfortable.”

 

Myungjun smiles excitedly. “Yeah! Come on, Min, don’t go back to—”

 

Dongmin sighs. “I’ll see you guys later.”

 

Jinwoo is waiting for him under the bar’s sign, his shoulder pressed against the brick building. His nose is a little red, and he’s forced his hands deep into his jacket pockets.  When he notices Dongmin, he stands straight, a smile splitting his face into two halves.

 

“Hey! So, I was thinking, there’s that barbecue place a bit down the way. It’s a little far, but it’s something new.”

 

Dongmin can’t say no, so he nods, a smile finding its way to his lips with ease. “Sounds good to me.”

 

By the time they’ve gotten their food, made it back to the bus stop, and gotten on the right bus, Dongmin is certain their takeout is frozen solid. The bus is slightly warmer than outside, if only because they’re no longer victim to the harsh winds. Dongmin watches the people board at each stop, and ocassionally he glances at Jinwoo, too. He catches Jinwoo watching him in the reflection of the bus window once, but Jinwoo hurriedly looks away before Dongmin can read his expression to get any gauge on _why_ they’re doing this now.

 

Two stops before their apartment, Dongmin slips his fingers between Jinwoo’s. Jinwoo looks at their hands sharply, then at Dongmin.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Dongmin settles their hands on his thigh. “Let me, please. Just for now.”

 

Jinwoo doesn’t hold his hand as tightly as he used to, but he also doesn’t pull away. Dongmin considers the moment a win, a sure sign Jinwoo still has feelings for him, no matter how deep in his heart they may be swimming.

 

The two of them settle into their couch at home twenty minutes after departing from Itaewon. Jinwoo sits closer to the door and Dongmin closer to the window, just like they used to. They dish their food out onto plates before Jinwoo turns on the TV, flipping through channels to find a movie, just like they used to. Dongmin finishes his food before Jinwoo does and takes the plate to the sink for one of them to clean later, hours later after they’re done watching whatever bad show they want to, just like they used to. And when Dongmin leans sideways, settling his head against Jinwoo’s shoulder, Jinwoo doesn’t pull away; he leans a bit closer to Dongmin, glued to the television as sleep threatens to overcome both of them, their eyes struggling to stay open, just like they used to.

 

Jinwoo finally moves to put his plate on the table beside their empty beers, Dongmin’s more numerous than Jinwoo’s. Perhaps it had been the alcohol already coursing through him that had driven Dongmin to drink more once arriving home, though he doesn’t remember downing three beers. Dongmin sits forward with Jinwoo leans back into the couch, eyes still stuck to the television. Driven partially by curiosity and partially by want, Dongmin grabs Jinwoo’s chin, turns his head, and presses their lips together.

 

Jinwoo doesn’t react at first. He doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t lean closer. And then he does, his hand grabbing the front of Dongmin’s shirt to pull him closer, lips parting against Dongmin’s. Dongmin melts into Jinwoo’s touch, the last three months slipping away as if they had never happened. Maybe they hadn’t? Maybe Dongmin has been stuck in a bad dream.

 

Dongmin is sure it must be true until Jinwoo pulls away, scooting back on the couch, his hand falling away from Dongmin’s chest. Dongmin blinks at Jinwoo’s shocked expression, his _hurt_ expression.

 

“Dongmin,” Jinwoo breathes, “what are we doing?”

 

Dongmin swallows. “Exactly what we’ve always done.” His cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

 

Jinwoo pushes his hair off his forehead with both hands, causing clumps of it to stick up in random places. “We can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Jinwoo stares at him for a moment. He shakes his head. “You’re drunk.”

 

Dongmin scoffs. “So, what, now you won’t kiss me because I’m drunk?”

 

“I won’t be with you because I don’t love you anymore, Dongmin. I don’t know how you could love me anymore when I hurt you.”

 

Dongmin scoots towards Jinwoo, who leans away from him. “Why?” He swallows hard. “Why did you kiss me back?”

 

“I—” Jinwoo sits up a little straighter, but he directs his eyes elsewhere. “I don’t know.”

 

“Why haven’t you moved out?” Dongmin grabs Jinwoo’s wrist, aching for any sort of attention. “Why haven’t you started dating someone new? Why are you acting like nothing ever changed? Why did you stop by the bar tonight? Why?”

 

Jinwoo wiggles his arm, weakly trying to pull it away. “I don’t know, Dongmin.”

 

Dongmin releases Jinwoo’s arm, pulling away from him. “Figure it out and let me know when you do.”

 

Jinwoo doesn’t move, so Dongmin does. He takes their dirty dishes and their trash, putting it where it belongs, before retreating to his makeshift bedroom. His clothes stink of cigarette smoke and his eyes sting from premature tears. Dongmin wipes his eyes harshly, sliding down the door until he lands on the floor with a gentle _thud_. It’s quiet except for his sniffling and the talking on the television.

 

When the television turns off, Dongmin holds his breath.

 

When the front door of their apartment opens, Dongmin holds his breath.

 

When the front door closes, Dongmin cries.

 

* * *

 

  _3 years. 3 months. 29 days._

 

Dongmin smoothed Jinwoo’s hair out, toying with the longer ends. His new apartment smelled exactly like a new apartment. In fact, this was only the third time Jinwoo has been to his apartment. Dongmin had moved in a month ago, and things had gone smoothly so far. He had a near-full-time job, and in half a year, he’d have his IT degree. He’d be able to buy better furniture for his apartment. He’d maybe be able to move into a better apartment. Dongmin’s life was missing one thing, though. One person.

 

“Babe?” Dongmin pulled Jinwoo out of his focus on the TV.

 

Jinwoo rolled so he was lying flat on the couch, his head still in Dongmin’s lap. “Mhm?”

 

“I was wondering…” Dongmin focused on Jinwoo’s hair, recently dyed back to black from his brief time as a blonde. “Do you want to move in with me?”

 

Jinwoo sat up quickly, twisting on the couch to face Dongmin. “Are you serious?”

 

Dongmin swallowed. “Yeah. I , uh, it’s a new place, and it’s not like we haven’t spent the night together. I thought it might be a good idea for us to take the next step, and that seems like moving in together. If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I thought—”

 

Jinwoo’s lips pressed against Dongmin’s firmly, but not for long. Jinwoo was laughing, the sound bright and lifting Dongmin’s spirits immediately.

 

“I’d love to move in with you,” Jinwoo said. “I’d absolutely love it.”

 

* * *

 

  _5 days. 7 months. 6 days._

 

Dongmin groans when he wakes up, his body unbelievably stiff. He shifts slightly, arching his back, extending his legs. The blinking clears his vision and he sees where he had fallen asleep—on the floor, mere feet away from his bed.

 

Dongmin frowns. His head is pounding, his back aches, and he’s developed a terrible pain in his neck through sleeping on the floor. Dongmin pushes himself to his knees, crawling to his bed and climbing onto it. He has Saturday and Sunday off, thankfully, so Dongmin lays there, not bothering to check the time or make breakfast.

 

_Did Jinwoo come home last night?_

 

Dongmin sits up so suddenly that the room spins. He moans, clutching at his forehead as he forces himself to his feet. The bedroom isn’t too far away, but it takes a tremendous effort for Dongmin to stay upright as his dizziness subsides. He pushes the bedroom door open, noisily, not caring if he wakes up Jinwoo, only wanting to see him lying in the bed.

 

But he isn’t there, and Dongmin’s stomach sinks deeper than the Mariana Trench.

 

The universe tilts as Dongmin rushes around to find his phone. It’s stuffed between the couch cushions, the sound of his ringtone the only thing alerting him to its presence. He answers the call without looking at the ID, sinking to the floor.

 

“Jinwoo?”

 

“Why? Did you two have a fight again?”

 

Dongmin sighs at Myungjun’s voice. “No, we— He didn’t come home last night, and I’m worried.”

 

Myungjun scoffs. “So, you _did_ have another fight last night.”

 

“Shut up, Myungjun,” Dongmin snaps. “He’s your friend, too. You should be worried.”

 

“About Jinwoo? He can take care of himself.”

 

“Asshole,” Dongmin mutters. “Do you even care?”

 

Myungjun laughs softly. “I won’t take that personally because I know it’s your hangover talking. Have you tried Bin’s hangover cure? It’s the best thing ever. Works every time, and it doesn’t taste that bad.”

 

Dongmin hears Bin say something in the background, and Myungjun laughs loudly, most likely bending over in joy. Dongmin envies their relationship. It used to be the other way around.

 

“Please, Myung,” Dongmin whines. “Can’t you text him, see where he is? Don’t tell him I’m asking for him, but it’s eating me alive. I think I might’ve made a mistake last night, and he left, and we haven’t talked. I want to know he’s okay and not dead in a ditch somewhere, stabbed to death or—”

 

“Alright, alright,” Myungjun sighs, “jeez. You don’t have to paint me the whole gory picture. I’ll see what he’s up to and text you what he said, okay?”

 

“Thank you,” Dongmin whispers. “Thank you, Myungjun.”

 

“Save your thanks for Bin’s hangover cure, seriously!”

 

The line goes dead, but Dongmin doesn’t move. He grasps his phone tightly against his chest, elbows tucked against his thighs as he waits. Seconds tick to minutes which quickly turn into nearly half an hour. Dongmin’s hands are sweating, and he’s going to call Myungjun back when his phone dings with a text.

 

**Myungjun**

(10:52) He’s at the shop, there’s a private tattoo party

(10:52) He slept at Minhyuk’s

(10:53) And he said it was a fight you two had

(10:54) Do you want to talk about it?

(10:54) Should I come over?

 

Dongmin wipes at his eyes, smiling a little at his phone. He doesn’t get a chance to answer the texts before his phone rings again.

 

“Dongmin, seriously, you can’t leave my texts unanswered like that. You scare me when you go all radio silent.”

 

Dongmin sniffles. “I know. Sorry, Myung. I—”

 

“I’m coming over. I can hear you crying.”

 

“No!” Dongmin coughs. “No, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. You have plans today anyway, right? You and Bin?”

 

Myungjun is quiet for a while. “I mean, yeah, but that’s not as important. Right, Binnie?”

 

Bin says something unintelligible, only for Myungjun to relay it a second later. “Binnie agrees. We can come over. It’s no bother.”

 

“I’m okay, Myungjun.” Dongmin wipes at his eyes, sniffling. “Thanks for getting ahold of Jinwoo for me. I didn’t— thanks.”

 

“Call me, Dongmin,” Myungjun says, his voice firm. “I mean it. If something happens, if you feel down, call me. I’ll have my phone on all day. Bin will, too.”

 

“Thanks,” Dongmin says, a smile coming across his face. However, there’s a hole in his heart bigger than it had been last night. “I’ll check in later.”

 

After short goodbyes (and a goodbye yelled from Bin, still undecipherable), Dongmin ends the call. He puts the couch cushions back where they belong, fixing the throw pillows in place. The headache pills are in the cabinet where they always are. Dongmin chases them with a bit of soda before falling into a chair at the dining table, laying his head on his arms.

 

This was his fault. Jinwoo left last night because of him. When had things gone so wrong?

 

* * *

 

  _1 year. 11 months. 7 days._

 

Bin sniffled, wiping at his nose. Dongmin leaned sideways to grab another napkin, but Bin simply waved it away. This was the second fight between Bin and Myungjun in the last three weeks, and it was clearly taking a toll on Bin. He had shown up at Dongmin’s dorm with tears in his eyes, collapsing against Dongmin’s chest the moment Dongmin asked what was wrong. Through his blubbering and gasping, Dongmin found out Bin had fought with Myungjun over something stupid, so stupid that Bin didn’t know what had started the argument.

 

“Why”—Bin sniffled again—”is your relationship with Jinwoo so perfect?”

 

Dongmin often asked himself the same question. He and Jinwoo rarely fought. They handled their disagreements with controlled conversations. When one of them did something extremely wrong, they both mostly kept their composure and worked out a solution.

 

“I don’t know. It just works for us. It always has.”

 

Bin snorted. “Yeah, I know. You were gushing about him from the first day Myungjun introduced you. He wouldn’t stop talking about how obsessed you were with his friend.”

 

Dongmin pinched Bin’s neck, making him whine and smack Dongmin’s hand away.

 

“I was not.”

 

Dongmin could hear the eye roll in Bin’s words. “Yeah, whatever you say.”

 

* * *

 

  _5 years. 7 months. 8 days._

 

“It wasn’t _me_ ,” Dongmin snaps, glaring across the room. Myungjun had called to ask if things had cooled off with Jinwoo or if he’d shown up at home yet, a normal friendly thing to do, but talking about Jinwoo had just made Dongmin unbelievably upset.

 

“It’s _his_ fault,” Dongmin continues, pacing from the door to the small dining table set on the edge of their kitchen. “This is _my_ apartment. I lived here first. He should be the one to move out.”

 

“Dongmin, I think you should give him some time. I’m sure he’ll figure it out, and when that happens you won’t have to keep wondering if—”

 

“I’m not wondering about anything.” Dongmin flops at the dining table, the old plastic chair creaking beneath him. “I wish he would make up his damn mind already.”

 

“Three days. That was three days ago. You need to cool off and give him time.”

 

“The worst part,” Dongmin continues (ignoring Myungjun, not entirely on purpose), “is that he never said anything else about it. He said he doesn’t love me anymore—no, that he’s not _in love_ with me anymore, and that was the end of it. It’s like it never happened.” Dongmin gets to his feet, beginning to pace again. “Who _does_ that to someone?”

 

“Dongmin—”

 

“And then he just _leaves_? He doesn’t text to say where he is— if he’s okay? He knows I still care about him, but it’s like he doesn’t care about how much I worry about him. It’s like he doesn’t care that I still care. It’s like—”

 

“Dongmin, shut up.”

 

Dongmin pauses. “What?”

 

Myungjun sighs heavily. “If you could hear yourself right now, you would know how _insane_ you sound. Jinwoo is having trouble, too, ya know. You have to think about his feelings, too.”

 

Dongmin blinks. The lump in his throat that had subsided during his tirade returns, growing larger, tugging him down. He squats, cradling the phone against the side of his face. “I— I need to go.”

 

“Don’t you dare hang up, Dongmin.”

 

“I’ll call you later.”

  
Dongmin drops his phone to the floor and sinks to sit properly. As his phone starts to vibrate and sing, he ignores it. He buries his head against his knees. That had to be why right? He’s so focused on himself instead of focusing on Jinwoo. _That_ was why Jinwoo left him. It was his fault, wasn’t it?

 

* * *

 

_5 years. 7 months. 19 days._

 

Dongmin pulls another chip out of the bag, shoving it in his mouth. It’s not too terribly late, but it isn’t early either, leaving most of the shows on TV to be reruns of reality shows or game shows. Dongmin, uninterested in most of it, has found comfort in a nature documentary about lions. He’s never done much studying of wild animals, but they’ve fascinated him since he was young.

 

Jinwoo breaks Dongmin’s concentration by exiting his bedroom. He’s dressed in a nice pair of jeans, and he has on a leather jacket, _the_ leather jacket Dongmin had bought him for his birthday one year, the perfect attire for a nightly excursion in early December. Jinwoo pays no attention to Dongmin, scurrying into the bathroom and shutting the door behind himself.

 

The time on Dongmin’s phone reads 7:42. The narrator of the documentary is talking about the hierarchy of a pride. The bathroom door holds Dongmin’s attention.

 

Jinwoo exits after a few minutes, patting the sides of his styled hair. He fixes his jacket sleeves, glancing up and noticing Dongmin staring at him.

 

“Going out?” Dongmin asks, and his voice shakes. There’s no use in hiding it. They’ve only spoken a handful of words to each other since the night when they kissed, the night when Dongmin ruined any chances they had.

 

Jinwoo crosses the room to the door. “Yeah.”

 

Dongmin swallows the lump in his throat and ignores the wild pounding of his heart. “Can I ask where to?”

 

Jinwoo bends, shoving his feet into his shoes. When he straightens, he looks directly at Dongmin.

 

“I have a date,” he says.

 

Dongmin takes too long to respond, and Jinwoo leaves, the apartment echoing with the sound of the door closing. Dongmin’s eyes find the TV, a female lion shown with a zebra pinned to the ground, it’s insides outside.

 

Dongmin swears he’s that zebra.

 

His entire body shudders as he walks, gathering as many clothes as he can into his backpack. He bites his bottom lip so hard that he can taste blood. After sliding his arms into his jacket, Dongmin takes his backpack, pillow, and blanket, only locking the door to the apartment at the last second, realizing that his valuables are still inside, too.

 

When he shows up on Myungjun and Bin’s doorstep, they say nothing. They drag him in by his arms, helping him settle on the couch, organizing his stuff around the room for him. Myungjun sits on one side of him, Bin on the other. It’s quiet for a while. Dongmin stares at the floor of their apartment, wooden pieces slotted together unlike the carpet of the apartment he shares with—

 

Dongmin leans into Myungjun, the tears coming quickly. Myungjun doesn’t ask any questions as Dongmin’s silent sobs shake his body. His tears stain Myungjun’s shirt, and when Dongmin pulls away, hissing his apologies, Myungjun simply twists and pulls Dongmin to his other side where the shirt is dry. Dongmin hadn’t noticed Bin leave, but he returns with tea that Dongmin sips on quietly. Bin rubs his back and Myungjun constantly wipes at his cheeks. When silence has finally fallen on the room, a silence signaling that Dongmin has gotten all his tears out, he speaks.

 

“Jinwoo has a date. He’s dating someone else.”

 

“Bastard,” Myungjun mumbles.

 

Dongmin watches from the corner of his eye as Bin makes a motion with his hand and Myungjun ducks his head.

 

“I didn’t mean that,” Myungjun says. “I meant the situation. This is such a tricky situation, Min, and I’m sorry you’re having to go through this.”

 

Dongmin shakes his head. “It’s partly my fault. I drove him further away.”

 

Bin shifts beside him. “What do you mean? You’ve been trying to put things back together.”

 

Dongmin shakes his head. “Before, when Jinwoo left and stayed with Minhyuk for a few days, that was my fault. I kissed him, and I asked him why nothing had changed. He said he didn’t know why, so I told him to figure it out.” Dongmin sniffles, wiping his nose. “I guess this is him figuring it out.”

 

“Well, you’re figuring things out, too, right?” Bin asks. I mean, both of you are. That’s what this is, right? It’s a break.”

 

Dongmin shakes his head again, sinking further into the couch, his hands tightening around the cup of tea. “It’s not a break if he’s dating someone else now. It’s _over_ for us, and it’s all my fault.”

 

“Breakups are a two-person thing,” Myungjun says, rubbing gentle circles into Dongmin’s shoulder. “This isn’t all you.”

 

* * *

 

  _5 years. 4 months. 6 days._

 

Dongmin tilts his head back with the shot, the bar buzzing with chatter. Bin hollers when Dongmin slams the small glass back down on the table, leaning into his shoulder.

 

“You, my friend”—Bin grimaces, covering his mouth as he belches—”are _super_ drunk.”

 

“Am not,” Dongmin laughs. He would be lying if he said the room wasn’t tilting a little in every direction, but he was still partly sober. His friends were not.

 

“Did I ever tell you about the time Dongmin and I kissed?” Myungjun slurs, pointing at Bin from across the table. “It was a truth or dare game.”

 

Bin snickers. “You kissed a weirdo.”

 

“Hey!” Dongmin yells. “I am _not_ a weirdo.”

 

“Yes, you are.” Bin prods his side with a finger. Dongmin leans away from it, arching as his nail digs into Dongmin’s skin through his shirt. “You’re still livin’ with Jinwoo even though you broke up.”

 

Dongmin swallows, averting his eyes. From the corner of his eye, he watches Myungjun rise from his seat, lean across the table, and smack Bin’s shoulder.

 

“Don’t say things like that,” Myungjun orders. “It’s tough for Minnie. He can’t go live on the streets.”

 

Bin coughs. “Yeah, true. I’m sorry, Min.”

 

Dongmin smiles for a brief moment, and the two return to their drinks. The comment from Bin ruined Dongmin’s mood, however, and he sits mostly in silence for the rest of the night, hardly touching the drink or side dishes the other two continue to order.

 

After a few hours, Dongmin is sober enough to make his way home. The bar is starting to clear out, anyway. He slides out of the chair while waving to get his friends attention.

 

“I’m gonna head home,” he says.

 

Myungjun nods, his face red as he rests it on the table. Bin reaches to pat his arm gently, missing several times. As drunk as they are, however, and as good of a friend Dongmin usually is, he doesn’t want to see his friends home tonight.

 

Only three other people are on the bus when Dongmin boards. He doesn’t check his phone for the time or bother texting Jinwoo that he’s coming home. Jinwoo hadn’t called to get him to leave the bar as usual. They wouldn’t be eating dinner together anymore like that. They weren’t together anymore like that.

 

Dongmin is certain it isn’t over. It can’t be over. Jinwoo is his other half, and without his other half, Dongmin knows he will never be whole. He can’t let the last five years slip through his fingers without fighting for it, at least. Dongmin leans his head against the bus window with a sigh, watching the streets go by in blurs.

 

* * *

 

  _5 years. 7 months. 22 days._

 

Dongmin doesn’t hear Bin come into the room, his ears shoved into the fluffy pillow supporting his head. He flinches when the pull-out couch bed caves in, sitting up quick enough to make his head hurt.

 

“You didn’t sleep, did you?”

 

Dongmin makes a face, shaking his head. “Couldn’t sleep. What time is it?”

 

Bin stands, sliding into the kitchen of their condo on socked feet. “Bit past seven,” he says as he returns to sit.

 

Dongmin sighs, staring at the ceiling. “I was thinking.”

 

Bin is silent for a moment. “Do you want to talk about what you were thinking about?”

 

Dongmin contemplates sharing. He’s already certain on what sort of response Bin will have because he knows how Bin is. Maybe he should keep his thoughts to himself? He knows sharing is usually the best way to have better thoughts, though.

 

“I think if I apologized to Jinwoo, he might love me again.”

 

Bin sighs quietly. “It’s not that simple, Min.”

 

Dongmin frowns, glancing at Bin. “Well, it should be.”

 

* * *

 

  _5 years. 8 months. 5 days._

 

Dongmin tries the front door of the apartment, figuring Jinwoo would have it unlocked if he was home. It’s locked, though. Even so, his hands shake as he raises his key to the door. The chance of coming face to face with Jinwoo—or worse, someone Jinwoo was dating—is making it impossible for Dongmin to function like a normal person.

 

Bin is there, a hand on his forearm to steady him. Dongmin takes a deep breath, slides the key into the lock, and twists.

 

The apartment is silent. There’s no sound from the TV or a stereo. There’s no chatter. Dongmin removes his shoes carefully, his throat tightening at the familiarity of the apartment. Myungjun pats his back lightly.

 

“I’ll get your clothes,” he says.

 

“I’ll help you pack the living room.” Bin picks up a snow globe from the table beside the couch. “I mean, you _have_ to keep this thing, right?”

 

Dongmin appreciates the help keeping his thoughts off the things he would be leaving behind, nodding slightly. He picks up the stack of flat boxes in the hall, handing one to each of his friends. They work in almost complete silence. There are a few questions of what exactly belongs to Dongmin. For most of the stuff they can’t decide on, Dongmin tells them to leave it. Jinwoo can keep it. Dongmin has enough money to buy dishes and throw pillows for his new apartment.

 

Dongmin’s small smile slides off his face as the front door swings open, accompanied by a quiet “what the heck” from Jinwoo’s familiar voice. The ball in Dongmin’s stomach grows as Jinwoo’s face appears in the space, another body behind him, clinging to Jinwoo’s arm.

 

“What are you doing here?” Jinwoo asks. His brows pull together as he steps further into the apartment.

 

Dongmin can’t respond. His shock has glued this throat shut and sewn his lips together. The young man that had come home with Jinwoo is a bit taller than him, large round glasses perched on his nose. He’s dressed stylishly, his eyes wide behind the glasses.

 

“I’ll wait out here,” the young man whispers into Jinwoo’s ear. Dongmin watches as he squeezes Jinwoo’s upper arm before slipping out into the hall. Jinwoo shuts the door, the thud echoing in Dongmin’s ears.

 

“Jinwoo,” Myungjun says, standing, “nice to finally see you again.”

 

Jinwoo seems taken aback by the formalities. “Yeah. Uh, what are you guys doing here?”

 

Dongmin stays seated on the floor, staring at Jinwoo. Jinwoo has barely glanced at him.

 

“We’re helping Min pack his things. Right, Min?”

 

Dongmin looks at Bin, his eyes shifting to look at Myungjun. He nods. His fingers hold onto the flap of the box tightly, nearly creating holes in it.

 

“Well, I’m gonna need you guys to go soon. I have company.”

 

Myungjun opens his mouth to speak, a scowl forming on his soft face, but Dongmin beats him to it.

 

“We’ll be gone soon,” Dongmin says, and Jinwoo looks at him.

 

Despite everything that has happened between them, Dongmin sees it. Jinwoo’s expression softens the slightest bit when he looks at him. The small wrinkles in his forehead disappear. The corners of his mouth relax. When he nods, though, it’s stiff.

 

“Good,” Jinwoo says.

 

Dongmin watches as he leaves the apartment, practically slamming the door behind himself.

 

Bin and Myungjun both turn to look at Dongmin, but Dongmin doesn’t bother looking at him. He doesn’t want to see their expressions.

 

“Let’s finish packing and leave quickly,” Dongmin says, his voice so quiet that he can barely hear himself.

 

When they leave the apartment, each of them carrying boxes, Dongmin looks only at the floor. While they wait for the elevator, however, Dongmin watches the reflection of Jinwoo and his new significant other in the reflection. His heart twists as the young guy bends to kiss Jinwoo. That used to be him.

 

“Dongmin.”

 

He glances at Bin and Myungjun already in the elevator.

 

“Come on, Min,” Myungjun says. “Let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

  _0 years. 5 months. 3 days._

 

“I love you.”

 

Dongmin looks sideways at Jinwoo. It’s hot out, the sun high in the sky. They decided to visit the park. It hadn’t been easy to find an empty spot to relax, but they had.

 

“I—”

 

Jinwoo raises a hand, and Dongmin stops. “Let me finish.”

 

Dongmin swallows. His heart is pounding in his chest. Words are begging to pour out of him.

 

“I love you, but it scares me.”

 

Dongmin’s brows furrow.

 

“I’ve never felt as strongly about someone as I feel about you, and I’m worried it either won’t last or I’ll screw it up. Or both, maybe, which is honestly more likely to happen.”

 

Dongmin snorts in amusement. “You could never—”

 

“Ah-ah,” Jinwoo shushes. “I’m not done.”

 

Dongmin smiles, his expression mirrored on Jinwoo’s face for a moment.

 

“I wanted to tell you for a while now,” Jinwoo continues. “But I was worried if I said it too early, you would leave and never talk to me again. At this point in my life, that’s not something I think I could handle. Being around you—hell, _thinking_ about you makes me so much happier.”

 

Dongmin covers his mouth with one hand, biting back his laughter.

 

“So, I told you. I love you, Dongmin. You don’t have to say it back if you don’t mean it, but I wanted to finally say it out loud.”

 

“Idiot,” Dongmin laughs, rolling onto his side. He props himself on one elbow, Jinwoo looking up at him. “I love you, too.”

 

Jinwoo smiles so widely that his gums appear. “Do you mean it?”

 

Dongmin scoffs. “Of course, I mean it! I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it!”

 

Jinwoo’s hands catch him by the neck, pulling him down, their lips pressing together. Dongmin smiles into the kiss, one hand clinging to Jinwoo’s shirt.

 

* * *

 

  _5 years. 10 months. 12 days._

 

Dongmin stares at his discarded phone lying unlocked on the floor a few feet away from the couch. He had tossed it without thinking, but from where he sits, he can see that the screen is still intact. He wishes it wasn’t, though, because having an intact screen means he can read the text over and over and over again. His phone dings again, a second text joining the first.

 

At nearly the same time, the door swings open. He’s still living in Bin and Myungjun’s living room. They went across the street to the temporary food cart to get dinner for them. Their chatter stops almost immediately once they enter the apartment, however.

 

“Min?” Bin asks. “What’s wrong?”

 

Dongmin swallows, shaking his head. He points at his phone, eyes glued to the messages despite not being able to read them from where he sits.

 

Myungjun scoops up his phone as Bin sits beside him. Dongmin watches Myungjun’s brows disappear into his hair (which, frankly, is desperately in need of a trim).

 

“Just now?” Myungjun asks.

 

Dongmin nods.

 

The texts had been out of the blue. In the two months since Dongmin (and Bin and Myungjun) ran into Jinwoo at the apartment they used to share, neither of them have contacted each other. Dongmin even blocked Jinwoo on every social media for half a month following the encounter. He knows he still isn’t over Jinwoo. He still loves Jinwoo with every fiber of his being, but the last two months have helped him clean the other out of his system. Dongmin can say he knows he and Jinwoo will never be together again. Or at least he had before that text.

 

**Jinwoo**

(8:26) I made a mistake. Can we talk?

 

“I didn’t read the second one,” Dongmin says as Myungjun sits on the other side of Bin. “I, uh—when the first one came in, I read it then chucked my phone over there.”

 

Bin snorts beside him. “Idiot. You’re lucky the screen didn’t break.”

 

“Was gonna say the same thing,” Myungjun says, though his voice is far away. His eyes are still stuck to the screen as if staring at the messages longer would reveal some sort of hidden intention.

 

“What does it say?” Dongmin asks.

 

The plastic containers squeak as Bin moves them on the coffee table.

 

“He says he’s sorry.”

 

Dongmin pulls his feet onto the couch, folding them under himself. The room is quiet, even Bin having stopped trying to get to the food. If it weren’t for the hum of the air conditioning and the noise of the city outside, there would be no sound at all.

 

His phone dings again. Dongmin leans to grab his phone immediately, stretching across Bin to snatch the device from Myungjun’s fingers. He works quickly, ignoring the text. With only a few taps, he’s blocked Jinwoo’s number. The heat of Myungjun and Bin’s stares is harsh. Dongmin doesn’t pay attention to them. He sets his phone to the side, swallows the lump in his throat, and grabs his box of food.

 

He doesn’t care what Jinwoo has to say. He made a mistake in unblocking Jinwoo. He made a mistake in thinking Jinwoo would keep his distance.

 

He made a mistake in thinking he wouldn’t want to run straight back into Jinwoo’s arms at the slightest hint of a chance to do so.

 

He made a mistake in thinking he could fall out of love with the one person he loves most in the world.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stage 1: Falling in Love
> 
> Stage 2: Becoming a Couple
> 
> Stage 3: Disillusionment
> 
> Stage 4: Real, Lasting Love
> 
> Stage 5: Changing the World

_ 5 years. 10 months. 16 days. _

 

Dongmin digs his hand into his pocket to retrieve his wallet, his access card stored inside. Suyeon’s face is hidden behind a large bouquet of flowers. It’s ingrained in Dongmin to greet her, however, so he does.

 

“Good morning.”

 

“Dongmin, is that you?” Suyeon’s face appears from behind the massive vase.

 

Dongmin hesitates at the gate to let him further into the building. “Yeah, why?”

 

“These flowers,” Suyeon sighs. “They’re for you. They got delivered almost as soon as I opened the doors this morning.”

 

_ There should be a button to turn off blushing _ , Dongmin thinks, cheeks burning. “For me?”

 

Suyeon laughs. “Yes, for you, now take them so people can see the receptionist.”

 

Dongmin taps his access card on the sensor, shoving it back into his wallet as speedily as he can. The vase alone must weigh five pounds so the flowers only make it heavier. He nearly drops the gift as he steps through the gate. Luckily for him, the Wednesday cleaning crew hasn’t moved the tables around yet. Dongmin sets the bouquet down on the nearest table. The thud causes the attention of several of his co-workers to focus on him for a moment.

 

Dongmin sizes up the flowers. There are red roses, white roses, red tulips—he can’t identify all of the flowers, but the bright blue card tied to the vase with a ribbon is all that matters. Who would have sent him a vase this large with this many flowers?

 

It takes a moment to remove the note, and once Dongmin flips it open, he wishes he hadn’t. The scrawling writing is the same Dongmin has seen for years. Even his tiny signature, just a dash and a J, is the same as it’s always been.

 

_ Dongmin, _

 

_ I hope you’ll consider talking to me. I have some things I need to say, things I would rather say in person. _

 

_ -J _

 

Dongmin rips the small card in two, dumps it onto the table, and marches away from it. He doesn’t glance over his shoulder. He doesn’t care what happens to the vase, the flowers, or the note, except the sting in his heart swears otherwise.

 

When Dongmin comes back to the lobby after his shift, the vase, flowers, and card are gone.

 

* * *

 

 

_ 5 years. 10 months. 19 days. _

It’s Dongmin’s first Saturday night alone in a long time. Myungjun and Bin had begged him to come along on whatever adventure they had planned, but he had to politely deny. His bank account was starting to suffer from all their activities. Being alone in the apartment meant Dongmin had to endure the silence alone. Dongmin didn’t handle silence well. Within five minutes of Myungjun and Bin leaving, Dongmin turned on music through their Bluetooth speaker and found an old drama replaying on the TV. He isn’t paying attention to it, to anything, which perhaps is the reason why the knocking on the door sounds so loud.

Dongmin sits up, staring at the door over the back of the couch. There were only a handful of Myungjun and Bin’s friends who knew where they lived. They kept their home life relatively separate from all other aspects. Dongmin ran down the list of people in his mind and none of the prospects were particularly interesting. With a sigh, Dongmin slid off the couch and shuffled to the door, pulling it open only enough to see through the crack allowed by the chain lock.

“Dongmin.”

As soon as he hears his name, he shuts the door. In running over the list of people who knew where Myungjun and Bin lived in his head, Dongmin had forgotten one very important person.

“Go away,” Dongmin says through the door. “Can’t you take a hint?”

“Dongmin, please! I just wanna—”

In the silence of Jinwoo’s pause, he lists all possible outcomes. One: Jinwoo would leave eventually. Two: Jinwoo wouldn’t leave so Dongmin would call Myungjun and Bin to come home and save him. Three: he would give in and talk to Jinwoo.

“I just wanna talk.”

Dongmin tightens his hand on the doorknob.  _ So this is how it’ll happen _ , he thinks.  _ I’ll open the door and Jinwoo will spin some story or give some excuse as to why he dumped me, and I’ll feel bad, and I’ll fall right back into his arms without him apologizing a single time. _ Dongmin has had his fair share of bad boyfriends. More than once he’s been walked over or used or he’s been stupid enough to forgive someone only for them to betray him again. He won’t make that mistake again. Not with Jinwoo. Not ever.

“Dongmin, please,” Jinwoo says, his voice slower than usual. 

_ Is he drunk? _

Dongmin opens the door again, and after a moment Jinwoo’s fingers slip in through the opening, his face pressing close.  _ He’s definitely drunk. He reeks. _ Dongmin takes several steps back from the door. Jinwoo can only get his hand and the lower half of his forearm through the gap. His eyes are red-rimmed. The tip of his nose is pink. Dongmin swallows, pushing down the “are you alright” threatening to come out from years of familiarity.

“I’m sorry,” Jinwoo slurs. “I’m so sorry, Min. I made such a big mistake and then I dated someone else and then I realized I couldn’t replace you and that was what I was trying to do. I just want to talk, please, Min. Wait, no—”

Jinwoo pulls away from the crack in the door, looking at Dongmin through the small gap. “Lemme try again, please. I’ll do it right this time, I promise.”

Dongmin waits in confusion as Jinwoo pulls the door shut. There’s a beat of silence before he knocks again. Dongmin doesn’t move.

When Jinwoo pushes the door open, the chain rattles. His face appears in the gap, a smile tugging on his lips. 

“You’re supposed to ask who it is,” Jinwoo says. “Try again.”

The door shuts once more, followed by a knock.  _ Jinwoo must be out of his mind _ , Dongmin thinks.  _ He’s incredibly drunk. I should just call Myungjun— _

Jinwoo knocks again. “Hello? Dongmin, are you in there?”

“He’s gone crazy,” Dongmin mutters. He wipes the smile off his face as soon as he realizes he’s smiling at all.

The door cracks open again, more gently this time. “Min, come  _ on _ . You’re ruining it.”

Dongmin snorts. “ _ I’m _ ruining it? Jinwoo, you’re not even supposed to be here. What are you doing here?”

Jinwoo looks above himself at the chain, then at Dongmin. “I have to tell you something. It’s really important.”

Dongmin swallows. “You can tell me from right there.”

Jinwoo sighs, shoulders slumping and a frown tugging his lips downward. “Okay. I’ll tell you from right here.”

He says nothing, however. Dongmin doesn’t know why he’s surprised. Jinwoo has always had an array of moods when drunk. He is always more emotional, but more easily distracted, too. He feels more, thinks less. Currently, Jinwoo’s eyes are trained on the door frame.

“What is it, Jinwoo?” Dongmin sighs, rubbing at his forehead. He doesn’t want to deal with any version of Jinwoo right now, but a drunk Jinwoo is the worst for Dongmin’s empathetic side.

“Oh!” Jinwoo straightens, looking at him. “I’m sorry, Min. I dumped you and I— That was a bad thing to do. I shouldn’t have, because I love you, and I want to make it right. Even if— You’ll probably never love me again, but I don’t want you to  _ hate  _ me. And I can see it in your eyes.” Jinwoo points at him. “You have that look right now. You’re really upset with me, I can tell.”

Dongmin ignores the stinging in his throat and the feeling of his resolve crumbling beneath Jinwoo’s words. “Okay. You said it. Now you can leave.”

Jinwoo gasps. “Wait, I’m not done! I’m— I miss you. I regretted saying it when I did but I made you cry and I felt like I couldn’t just say ‘oh, just kidding, I didn’t mean it.’ The damage was done, and Min— Dongmin, you  _ gotta  _ believe me, okay? I’m sorry, I love you. It was my fault.”

It wasn’t extremely late, yet Jinwoo was drunk as if he’d been comforted by the bottle for hours already. He had to be at least semi-coherent to have made it to Myungjun and Bin’s in one piece, given it was quite a distance from their old apartment. Dongmin crosses his arms over his chest as he shifts from one foot to the other. As much as Jinwoo babbles, Dongmin can’t let himself give in and open the door. 

“Oh!” Jinwoo points at him through the gap. “You crossed your arms. That means you’re upset. The internet said so. I’m gonna go home now, but I love you, okay? I love you, Min. I’m going to fix this.”

“What the—”

Jinwoo glances over his shoulder before shutting the door quickly. In confusion, Dongmin shuffles to the door. He slides the chain off before opening the door.

Myungjun and Bin stand in the hall beyond Jinwoo. Dongmin had gathered the attention of the three of them by opening the door.

“What are you doing here?” Myungjun asks, the question directed at Jinwoo. “And  _ you _ ”—Myungjun turns his attention to Dongmin—”you weren’t listening to him, were you?”

“He was just leaving,” Dongmin says. 

Despite his bare feet and his lack of proper attire, Dongmin puts his hands on Jinwoo’s shoulders and guides him into the hall and several feet away from Myungjun and Bin.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Dongmin says as Jinwoo turns to face him. “I’ll be right back.”

Dongmin avoids looking at Myungjun and Bin as he goes back into the apartment. He knows he might regret it, might even hate himself for it, but Dongmin can’t let Jinwoo get himself home. He probably wouldn’t make it all the way. He would probably pass out on street bench only to be picked up by the police. Dongmin changes into a proper pair of pants and slides on his jacket. Myungjun and Bin stand just inside the apartment, the door shut with them in front of it.

“You’re not going anywhere with him,” Bin says as Dongmin stops just a few feet away.

“I’m  _ just  _ going to see him home.” Dongmin sticks his hands in his jacket pockets. “You guys know how he is when he’s drunk. He won’t make it halfway before passing out on the sidewalk.”

“Then let us.” Myungjun glances at Bin, who nods. “We can see him home.”

Dongmin shakes his head quickly. “No, that’s fine. You two are supposed to be having a night out, anyway. Why are you back home?”

Myungjun sighs. “ _ This  _ one”—he gestures at Bin, who frowns—”convinced me it was better for us to keep you company.”

“You guys center your life around me too much. Look, go out. Have fun. I’m going to take Jinwoo home and then I’ll be back here. We can even ride the elevator down together, okay?”

Despite his friends’ protests, Dongmin is determined. It’s a terrible idea, possibly the worst idea he’s ever had, but Dongmin isn’t going to let that stop him. Sometimes bad ideas have positive results. He grabs his keys, pushing his friends out of the apartment quickly and down the hall to Jinwoo. 

“We’re going home,” Dongmin says, gesturing down the hall for Jinwoo to start walking.

The elevator ride is quiet. Dongmin avoids looking at Myungjun or Bin, either directly or at their reflections in the walls of the elevator. He knows what face they’d both be making. Thankfully, for all of their sakes, Jinwoo stays quiet the entire ride.

“I’ll see you guys in the morning,” Dongmin says, waving at Myungjun and Bin for a brief moment before guiding Jinwoo by a hand on his shoulder.

In the cold night air outside the apartment building, Dongmin is reminded once more how  _ terrible  _ of an idea this is. Several cabs pass them without slowing the slightest bit. The one that finally stops smells like it hasn’t ever been cleaned, and the stain on the roof of the interior confirms Dongmin’s suspicions that the cab has seen some stuff. Jinwoo stays quiet even in the cab, a surprise to Dongmin given how loose his lips usually were when he was drunk. In fact, Jinwoo doesn’t say anything at  _ all _ in the fifteen minute cab ride. He doesn’t speak as they walk up the stairs in the older building. As he struggles to fit the key into the lock, he doesn’t utter a single word. When the door pops open, Jinwoo finally speaks.

“Are you going to stay with me?”

Dongmin knows what Jinwoo is asking. He wants to know if Dongmin is going to stay for the night, but there are a thousand other meanings behind those words, making Dongmin pause. 

“I don’t like being alone,” Jinwoo mutters, shuffling slightly in place. “And I know you don’t either, Min.”

_ A little while wouldn’t hurt.  _ Dongmin nods. The smile spreading across Jinwoo’s face almost makes Dongmin smile, too. He doesn’t, though. It hurts to see Jinwoo smile so widely at his answer to a question that six months ago wouldn’t have been a question at all.

Dongmin follows Jinwoo into the apartment, looking over the familiar yet foreign environment. The rug in front of the kitchen sink is missing. The curtains that used to cover the large window in their living room have been removed. The armrest of the couch is sporting a new stain. There are different photos on the walls, some holes on shelves and tables where his things used to belong. 

“I’m gonna sleep,” Jinwoo announces in that slow voice of his. “Are you gonna— You’re crying. Did I say something?”

Dongmin wipes at his eyes with one hand. Why is he crying? There’s no reason for him to be crying. Their relationship was over. Things around the apartment had changed without him, of course. Dongmin couldn’t expect Jinwoo’s life to stay the same without him, just as his life had changed. Why, then, did it hurt so much to see the empty space beside Jinwoo’s two pairs of shoes where his used to live? Why, then, did it hurt to see a single basket of laundry tucked into the corner, his own missing from beside it? Why, then, did it hurt  _ so much  _ to see the apartment void of anything that belonged to him?

“Min.”

When Jinwoo’s arms wrap around Dongmin’s waist, he doesn’t fight it. For just five minutes he doesn’t want to fight the sadness or the longing in his chest. He curls into Jinwoo, both arms wrapping tightly around him as he buries his face in his neck. 

“Just for a little while,” Dongmin murmurs.

Jinwoo nods, his hair tickling Dongmin’s neck and jaw. Dongmin misses that. He misses the way Jinwoo’s arms fit around his waist so easily and the way his head tilted to fit against Dongmin. He misses the way they used to stand just like this, right in the doorway, after an exhausting day. He misses Jinwoo arriving home with flowers or extra food. He misses the nights when Jinwoo was late coming home, leaving Dongmin to worry with no call or text, only to arrive home with flowers in hand. He misses Jinwoo’s lazy morning smiles when he actually woke up early. He misses finding notes in his jacket pockets or shoved into his shoes. He misses  _ Jinwoo _ .

“I’m tired,” Jinwoo mumbles. “Will you— Are you going to stay?”

Dongmin pulls away from Jinwoo, the shattered pieces of his heart hardly fitting together anymore as he takes a step back.

“Just for a little while,” Dongmin says. “Here.” He gestures to the couch. “Only until you fall asleep.”

Jinwoo nods, pauses, then nods again. “Okay. I’m gonna sleep now.”

Rather than answering, Dongmin keeps his mouth shut. If Jinwoo asked him one more time if he was going to stay, Dongmin is sure he would say yes. He would fall into bed beside Jinwoo and wake up beside him in the morning. He would follow their morning routine and pretend nothing had changed, but he can’t do that to himself or to Jinwoo, so he stays quiet. Jinwoo hesitates for a moment before turning. He shuffles to the bedroom and shuts the door softly behind himself.

Dongmin immediately settles into the couch, pulling one of the unrecognizable throw pillows against his chest. He ignores his feelings for the time being. He can deal with those later. His  _ thoughts _ , on the other hand, are now demanding his full attention.

Jinwoo had apologized. He said he missed him. Jinwoo said he loves him and he made a mistake in ending their relationship. He said he regretted saying what he had. He said he’d tried to replace him but couldn’t. 

  
Jinwoo  _ loves  _ him.

 

* * *

 

 

_ 5 years. 10 months. 20 days. _

Dongmin wakes to the smell of burning eggs and the swearing of a voice he can’t place right away. He shifts slightly, groaning at the stiffness in his neck and shoulders. Dongmin cracks his eyes open as he shoves himself into a sitting position only to freeze halfway.

He fell asleep on the couch.

Dongmin rushes to sit up the rest of the way, his head spinning from the quick movement. Jinwoo stands in front of the stove with his bare back to the couch. If Dongmin is quick, he can leave without any awkward conversations—

“Might be a while,” Jinwoo says. “Burned the damn eggs again.”

A string has been tied around Dongmin’s throat, making it impossible for him to speak. His fingers dig into the cushion beneath him. Someone— _ Jinwoo _ —had covered him with a blanket some time since Dongmin fell asleep. It’s now draped over the bottom half of Dongmin’s legs. Though part of it is pooled on the floor, Dongmin makes no move to lift it.

“Do you want coffee?”

Jinwoo turns to face him, and Dongmin stares. Jinwoo’s body had softened in the last six months. His chest is less defined, his arms more round. His sweatpants sit low on his hips, the smallest line of his boxers peeking over the top—

“Oh, hang on.”

Just like that, the moment is over. Jinwoo scurries into the bedroom and disappears from sight for half a minute. When he returns, he’s wearing a shirt Dongmin doesn’t recognize. There are a lot of things that have changed. While he’s been gone, Jinwoo’s life has evolved without him. 

“Habit,” Jinwoo explains as he returns to the stove. “Should’ve thought a little more, but my head is pounding and making it hard to think much of anything.”

“You always did drink more than you could handle.”

The words slip out of Dongmin before he can think about what they might mean. Jinwoo glances at him for a moment before turning away again.  _ Stupid.  _ Dongmin doesn’t want Jinwoo to think he’s holding onto bits of their past. He doesn’t want Jinwoo to think he meant to stay the night.

“Jinwoo, I have to go.” Dongmin stands, reaching for his phone on the end table. “I can’t be here.”

Jinwoo turns around to face him quickly. “Dongmin, wait, please. Can we just— Can you give me five minutes to tell you something?”

Whatever resolve Dongmin had had last night is gone now. He nods, sinking back down onto the couch. Jinwoo turns off the stove before taking a seat beside him on the other end of the couch. Neither of them speaks for a moment, and then Jinwoo takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Dongmin looks at him. His eyes are trained on the table, hands hanging between his knees.

“I’m sorry for showing up at Myungjun and Bin’s place last night, for being so angry at you when you came here to pick up your things. I’m sorry I dated someone else. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened. When I ended things— I can’t stop thinking about it. I should’ve just said it differently. We should’ve talked it out like we used to, but I was so caught up in my own feelings I didn’t even stop to consider how you would react, and I’m sorry.

“I told you I’m not in love with you anymore, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I was just so frustrated. You—  _ Both  _ of us had fallen into this rut of normality. We went to work every day, came home. We would talk a little but it felt like the spark that had been there before was gone. That day I was just so  _ frustrated _ .”

Jinwoo pauses, looking at him for just a moment before averting his eyes again.

“You came home later than usual and I was tired, you were tired. Everything had started to feel so dull, so I figured I just didn’t love you anymore. But when I said it, when I watched you holding back your tears, I immediately knew I’d made a mistake. How was I supposed to fix that in the moment, though? I hadn’t thought before telling you. I hadn’t tried to figure out  _ why  _ everything felt so dull. And then you locked yourself in the office and I— I sat outside the door for hours that night.”

Dongmin stares at Jinwoo. He’d never known that. Jinwoo hadn’t brought it up before now. 

“I sat there and I listened to you crying and I wanted so badly to be the person to put you back together but I didn’t know how to when I was the one who had broken you.”

“Jinwoo—”

“Wait.” Jinwoo looks at him seriously. The tip of his nose is pink. “Please let me finish before you say anything.”

Dongmin nods silently, and Jinwoo’s eyes fall away from him again.

“I didn’t know how to fix things, so I didn’t. I just fell into our routine and didn’t bring it up again. I thought, maybe, if I didn’t bring it up, if I just gave it a little more of a chance, things would feel right again. But they didn’t. I thought maybe we needed to try doing things the way we used to, so I showed up to the bar and we got take out and you kissed me.

“It felt  _ right _ . That’s why I kissed you back. For just that moment there was the excitement—the spark, I guess—I’d been missing. But I still didn’t know how to make things right with you. I didn’t know how to go about fixing things, so I didn’t. You said to figure it out, so I did. I met Chan when I was giving him a tattoo and something clicked. There was something there, but I found myself constantly looking for things about you in him. The spark was there but something was missing. You were missing. I broke up with him the day after you picked up your stuff, and I’ve been trying to figure out how to do  _ this _ ”—Jinwoo gestures vaguely between them—”ever since. Last night I was feeling more than thinking and my feet naturally found their way to you.”

Dongmin stares at the table in the silence after Jinwoo’s words. Jinwoo sniffles softly, but he doesn’t speak. Dongmin knows Jinwoo is right. They had both been so focused on themselves and their work that there had been no time for them to be together as a couple despite living in the same place. Dongmin hadn’t realized it, and it appeared Jinwoo hadn’t realized it at first either.

“I hope you can forgive me for how I treated you.” Dongmin looks at Jinwoo, finding him already looking back at him. “I don’t want this tension to be between us anymore. This disconnect is killing me. I love you, not just as a partner, but as a friend. I want to try to fix things, to be better than what we were before, but if you don’t want that, I understand.”

Dongmin nods slowly. “I— Yeah. I mean, we can work towards that. I want that back.” Dongmin pulls his eyes away from Jinwoo for a moment. “I want something, with you, that feels like it did before. I want to make this work if we can.”

He looks at Jinwoo again. His eyes are soft, the smallest of smiles on his lips and a shine in his eyes. It makes Dongmin’s heart sting. The desperate side of Dongmin wants to dive headfirst into the deep end and have things return to how they were before, but he knows that won’t work. Their relationship has to change. It needs to be rebuilt from the foundation, so for now, he’ll be happy with dipping his toes in the shallow end.

 

* * *

 

 

_ 5 years. 10 months. 25 days. _

“This is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.”

Dongmin sighs, eyeing Myungjun. “Come  _ on _ , Myung. He’s your friend, too. You don’t want to celebrate his birthday? It’s just in a few days, and this is the best time for us all to come together.”

“And it’s almost Sanha’s birthday, too.” Minhyuk beams, fitting his arm around his new boyfriend’s waist. (Sanha blushes. Dongmin can’t help but think they make an adorable couple.)

“It’s just a movie, Jun.” Bin wraps his arms around Myungjun from behind. “We’ll even put them on opposite sides of the group when we’re finally in the theater.”

“Guys, hey!”

Dongmin turns at Jinwoo’s greeting from behind them.

“Thanks for waiting for me.” Jinwoo sighs heavily. “The bus was late, and then it hit every single stop light on the way here.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “What are we watching?”

“We thought we’d let you pick, Hyung,” Minhyuk says. “Since it’s your birthday and all.”

“Well, I don’t want to pick a movie nobody else will like. We can take a vote.”

“I vote for the scary one,” Minhyuk says immediately, arm tightening around Sanha’s waist when he whines.

“I don’t want to see the scary one.” Sanha pouts cutely. “I’ll see any of the others.”

“I second not seeing the scary one,” Myungjun says.

Bin squeezes his arms around Myungjun’s waist. “The new comedy movie is our best bet. It’ll be way better, and nobody will have to worry about nightmares tonight.”

Jinwoo looks at Dongmin, eyes raised. “Your vote?”

Dongmin shrugs. “Whatever is fine.”

“We’ll see the comedy one, then.” Jinwoo looks around at them. “Is that good?”

Aside from Minhyuk (who groans in disagreement loudly enough to draw the attention of nearly everybody around them), they all agree. After buying their tickets, popcorn, and drinks, they file into the theater to take their seats. Myungjun and Bin huddle together over a bag of popcorn. Sanha and Minhyuk hold hands after raising the armrest between them. Jinwoo sits beside Minhyuk, and Dongmin takes the seat beside him. There’s quiet chatter in the theater before the movie stars. As the light dims, the chatter dies out. Dongmin’s heart slams against his shirt through the previews.  _ It’s just a movie _ , Dongmin tells himself.  _ Not even a scary one or a romantic one.  _

Dongmin constantly has to redirect his attention to the screen. Jinwoo beside him is much more interesting. Every sound of amusement that leaves Jinwoo makes Dongmin’s heart swell with joy. By the time the movie is halfway through, he has no idea what’s going on anymore. He excuses himself by tapping on Jinwoo’s arm then gesturing to the exit. Jinwoo’s brows pull together but he nods.

The bathroom is quiet. Dongmin stands over one of the sinks, hands in fists on the counter. Maybe Myungjun was right. Maybe this is a stupid idea. How are he and Jinwoo going to fix things? Whatever relationship they had before has been shattered, smashed into a million pieces by a giant sledgehammer on both sides.

Dongmin leans over the sink, splashing water on his face. He doesn’t bother drying it right away. He stares at the stream of water as his thoughts take over.

Was he going to hurt himself more by trying to mend things with Jinwoo? Surely it would all backfire. How many people had gotten back together with their ex and had a happy, healthy relationship? Dongmin is sure it isn’t many. He should just call it off now. He should tell Jinwoo that he can’t do this and save himself the pain.

“Dongmin?”

Dongmin looks up quickly, spotting Jinwoo in the mirror. He turns with furrowed brows. “You have to use the bathroom, too?”

Jinwoo shakes his head. “You’ve been gone for a little while and I wasn’t sure if you were okay.”

“Oh.” Dongmin nods. “I’m fine.”

Jinwoo raises a brow. “Your face is soaked. What’s going on?”

Dongmin grabs paper towels quickly, blotting his face. A quick inspection in the mirror reveals that the water has stained the collar of his shirt as well. He sighs and tightens his hand around the paper towels.

“I’m just thinking too much.”

“Do you want to sit and talk about it?”

Dongmin looks Jinwoo over once. He’s the same guy Dongmin has known for years, but there’s something just slightly different.  _ He’s taking more time to focus on me. _

Dongmin nods. “Yeah, but we shouldn’t do that in here. Might make some people think we’re weird.”

Jinwoo smiles. “Too late. I already think you’re weird.”

Dongmin fakes a laugh. “Yeah, comedy gold there, Jinwoo.”

They make their way outside, finding a mostly clean section of the stairs to sit on. When they sit, Jinwoo doesn’t ask questions. Dongmin expected any silence between them to be awkward after their conversation last weekend, but it’s anything but that. A little tense maybe, sure, but Dongmin can understand why. He sets his elbows on his knees and stares at the ground.

“I’m worried about what we’re doing.” Dongmin chews on his bottom lip. Jinwoo is watching him carefully. “I’m worried we’ll try too hard to fix this or we won’t try hard enough and one or both of us will end up hurt. I don’t want to just fall back into a pattern, but I don’t know how to do  _ this  _ any differently. It’s always been the same.”

Jinwoo is quiet for a moment. “What if we focus on being friends again instead?”

Dongmin looks at him. “Are we not friends again already?”

Jinwoo smiles, shrugging slightly. “I don’t know, are we? If we have to ask, then the answer is no. When we first got to know each other, we were friends before we started dating. If we focus on being friends again first, maybe we can find something better than what we had before.”

It makes sense. “I guess I was just so focused on getting right back to where we were before that I was skipping a few steps.”

Jinwoo smiles brightly. His nose wrinkles as it scrunches. “We’ll start from square one and see where we go. No pressure to make a certain something happen. Sound good?”

  
Dongmin nods, returning Jinwoo’s smile. Maybe they  _ can  _ make this work.

 

* * *

 

 

_ 5 years. 11 months. 14 days.  _

Dongmin drops the last box just inside his new apartment. It’s a studio apartment, just big enough for him. Boxes line pathways from one side of the room to the other. Several are stacked right in front of the bathroom door. Dongmin scans over the boxes, finding Jinwoo on the couch with his head leaned back and eyes closed. Stepping carefully, Dongmin creeps up behind the couch and pokes the side of Jinwoo’s nose.

Jinwoo blinks up at him, frowning. “What was that for?”

“Oh, so you’re done? Is that it?” Dongmin laughs. “Help me move in all the boxes but you won’t help me unpack?”

“Maybe after some food.” Jinwoo yawns. “Or a nap. Or both. If you order, I’ll pay.”

Dongmin scoffs. “Will you pay this time?”

Jinwoo sits up, turning to look at him over the back of the couch. “Of course! When have I ever  _ not  _ paid?”

Dongmin hums, drumming his fingers on his chin as if he has to think about it. “Oh, I know. Two days ago at your place! Come on, you never pay. Why would you lie?”

Jinwoo laughs. “But I paid for lunch on your birthday!”

“One time out of twenty does not mean you pay every time.” Dongmin shakes his head. “This is my new apartment. You should be the one treating me to a meal.”

A heavy-handed knock on the door interrupts their bickering. Dongmin steps over a box to get to the door. Myungjun and Bin wait on the other side, food in hand.

“Someone was complaining about food,” Bin says with a bright smile. “We came prepared.”

“You guys—” Dongmin grins, stepping to the side so they can enter.

In the time it takes for them to find the plates and set up some semblance of a system, Minhyuk and Sanha show up. Dongmin sits on his couch, Bin at his side and Sanha on the other end. The other three spread out amongst the dishes on the floor. Conversation flows freely between them. For a moment, Dongmin just stops and observes. He’s side-by-side with his five closest friends in his brand new apartment. There’s an almost surreal aspect to it.

Jinwoo seems to think similarly. He leaves and comes back with a six-pack of beer, handing one to each of them. All eyes are on him as he stands.

“I want to make a toast,” he says.

Myungjun groans. “Are you going to talk for five minutes now?”

“Shut up,” Jinwoo laughs. He softens a little, smiling. “I think everybody here has come a long way. We all have our own things going, but it’s nice that a group of people like us—with different interests and backgrounds and relationships with one another—can come together and just celebrate. So”—he raises his can—”a toast.”

“Get on with it!” Myungjun chides, earning an elbow from Bin.

Jinwoo smirks. “To old friends, new relationships”—he looks pointedly at Minhyuk and Sanha (the latter covers his mouth as he laughs)—”and fresh starts.” Jinwoo’s eyes slide to Dongmin with the end, but none of the others seem to catch it. Dongmin is saved by their interest in their drinks instead.

The small gathering doesn’t last for much longer after Jinwoo’s brief speech. Minhyuk and Sanha leave first, Sanha claiming he needs to be in bed before it’s too late so he can get to classes in the morning. He drags Minhyuk along by his hand. Both of them hug Dongmin, a welcome interaction that makes Dongmin feel warm. When there are four of them, they all squish into the couch together. Bin is to one side of Dongmin and Jinwoo to the other. Bin’s arm rests around his shoulders. Myungjun works on Bin’s half-finished beer until his eyes start to droop. Dongmin swears he says goodbye a dozen times before he can finally shut the door. With only Jinwoo remaining, the apartment is quiet.

“Should I leave?” Jinwoo asks, inching towards the door. “Or should we go buy more beer?”

Dongmin doesn’t need to think. “Beer, definitely.”

The convenient store is a short walk from Dongmin’s new apartment. In fact, most things are only a short walk away. They pass a small cafe and another apartment building before reaching the convenient store. The only person in the store is the high schooler seated behind the counter playing a game on their phone. Jinwoo grabs two packs, setting them lightly on the counter in front of the worker. She hardly glances at them, returning to her game as soon as she’s handed Jinwoo the change.

“I didn’t buy food, but I bought drinks,” Jinwoo says as they exit the store. “That counts for something, right?”

“Okay, we’re even.”

The silence between them as they walk is comfortable. For a short time, Dongmin had been certain things would be awkward in the beginning. That awkwardness never did end up intruding on the time they spent together. Each time it feels like they truly are just new friends getting to know each other. 

It’s no different alone in the apartment together either. Jinwoo makes jokes that Dongmin laughs at as cans pile together on the floor. They unpack Dongmin’s kitchen items and find his bed sheets and blankets so he can make his couch into a temporary bed (since his bed wouldn’t be delivered for another few days). Dizzy with alcohol, Dongmin half lays on one end of the couch while Jinwoo occupies the other half. Neither of them speaks for a long time. When the silence is finally broken, it’s by Jinwoo.

“I should go home.”

Dongmin forces himself into a sitting position, looking at Jinwoo who hasn’t moved an inch in fifteen minutes.  _ Stay with me.  _ “Yeah, it’s pretty late.”

“Hopefully I can call a cab to pick me up.”

Dongmin sits up further. “You can hang out up here until it gets here. My window has a view of the street anyway, and it’s kind of chilly.” It isn’t all that cold.

Jinwoo nods, but still he doesn’t move. “Dongmin?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for giving me a chance at fixing this.”

Dongmin doesn’t budge as Jinwoo sits up properly, looking at him. There’s caution in his eyes. His mouth opens but he hesitates before speaking.

“Do you forgive me for what I said and did? For—” Jinwoo visibly swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Do you forgive me for saying I didn’t love you anymore? Do you think we can try to work towards something more? If you just want to stay friends, I’ll respect your wishes even though a part of me has been hoping through this last month that you’ll be able to see me in the same light again that you did before.”

“I forgive you.”

Jinwoo blinks, eyebrows raising. “Really?”

Dongmin smiles a little. “I can tell you mean what you’re saying and this can’t get any better than right now if I don’t forgive you. I want us to be better. I want to  _ love  _ you, openly and freely and without worrying that something like this will happen again, and I can’t do that unless I forgive you.”

Jinwoo smiles, only a little at first, and then his smile grows until his gums are showing from under his lips. “Thank you, Min. I— We shouldn’t push anything, but I hope we can make this work.”

Dongmin smirks. “Not now, though, because you need to get going so I can sleep.”

“Oh. Of course.” Jinwoo laughs softly, slipping his phone out of his pocket to call a cab. 

He waits by the window, silently watching the street as Dongmin cleans up the beer cans and stores the full ones in his otherwise empty refrigerator. There’s music coming from one of the other apartments. Pop songs followed by ballads followed by hip-hop float muffled through the walls. Dongmin scoots some of the boxes away from his couch, and then Jinwoo is knocking lightly on the window sill.

“There’s my ride.”

Dongmin shuffles around boxes to meet Jinwoo at the door. He opens it, keeping his distance, fulling intending to keep their night only as friendly as it’s been so far. As he seems to do too often around Jinwoo, he acts before thinking. He catches Jinwoo’s hand before he’s too far out the door. His fingers hold just the ends of Jinwoo’s, but it’s enough to stop him from walking away.

“I, um—” Dongmin glances at their hands, and Jinwoo follows his gaze. “Thank you for helping me move.” He releases Jinwoo’s fingers.

Jinwoo nods, smiling that kind smile of his. “Anytime. Let me know if you’re moving again and I’ll be back right away.”

Dongmin laughs shortly. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. Go, though. I don’t want you to miss your ride. Just— Can you text me when you’ve made it home?”

His smile widens as his eyes squeezing upwards. “Of course.”

Dongmin figures it’ll take fifteen or twenty minutes for Jinwoo to get home. He watches Jinwoo walk down the hall and disappear into the stairwell before he closes and locks his door. As he waits for Jinwoo’s text, he showers and cleans up what else he can. He stacks boxes in front of his window to give him at least a little bit of privacy before he can get his curtains up.

His phone dings across the room and he practically launches himself at it. Why is he so excited over a text message? He opens it as he settles on the couch, his racing heart slowing.

**Jinwoo**

(12:56) I’m home, you can go to sleep now

Dongmin smiles, holding his phone against his chest for a moment before responding.

**Dongmin**

(12:57) Don’t stay awake too late

**Jinwoo**

(12:57) I won’t make promises I can’t keep

 

* * *

 

 

_ 5 years. 11 months. 24 days. _

Dongmin pushes his empty plate to the center of the table, leaning back in his chair with a soft groan. Jinwoo grins at him from across the table. Lunch together had been a good idea. They’d both gotten the chance to check out a new restaurant not too far from where either of them lives. There were hardly any people, either, given Dongmin’s new, weird “lunch” hour. It fell more between lunch and dinner, and closer to the end of Dongmin’s shift. Dongmin doesn’t mind.

“I was thinking”—Jinwoo sits forward—”about asking you out on a date.”

Dongmin stares back at him. “You were?”

Jinwoo nods. “I was—  _ Am.  _ I am thinking about it. I don’t want us to move too quickly, though, so I didn’t know if you would be okay with that.”

Dongmin tries to keep the grin off his lips but it’s no use. He ducks his head, eyes on the table. “I would be okay with it.”

Jinwoo is smiling at him when he looks up. “Good,” he says. “I’ll do that, then.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ 6 years. 0 months. 8 days. _

Dongmin can hear the shouting from the bar just a few steps away from the bus stop. It’s half a block away, but sharp voices and laughter cut right through the otherwise dull Friday night. Myungjun and Bin are somewhere in the mix, both of them likely having emptied a few beers already. Dongmin finds them on the far end of the bar after several minutes of cluelessly searching for them in the crowd. Jinwoo sits beside them.

“It’s Minnie!” Bin greets. He slips off his chair, throwing his arms around Dongmin. “We were just talking about you!”

Dongmin looks around Bin’s shoulder to Myungjun and Jinwoo, the former laughing hysterically and the latter looking quite pleased with himself. Jinwoo catches his eye and his smile grows.

“Jinwoo has something he wants to tell you,” Myungjun says through his giggles. 

Dongmin raises a brow and Bin releases him, stepping to the side. Jinwoo climbs down from his bar stool to take Bin’s place standing in front of Dongmin. There’s the smallest inkling of what Jinwoo is going to say floating in Dongmin’s mind, but he waits patiently for Jinwoo to say it.

“Dongmin”—Jinwoo grabs his hand gently, smiling up at him so widely that it makes  _ Dongmin’s  _ cheeks hurt—”do you want to go out on a date with me tonight?”

“He would love to!” Myungjun shouts.

Dongmin rolls his eyes at Myungjun, and Bin who has joined Myungjun in a celebratory shouting match. He tunes them out to focus on Jinwoo. He wants to commit this to memory. The feeling in his chest of a thousand fireworks exploding all at once and the way Jinwoo’s fingers lightly grasp his is something Dongmin never wants to forget.

“I would love to.”

“Park and Lee, back in action!” Bin cries, slinging his arms around both of their shoulders. “Where are you two heading, hm? Movies and dinner? Arcade? Bowling?”

Jinwoo ducks his head. “That’s something I’d rather keep between Dongmin and I for the time being.”

Bin whistles lowly, slipping his arms off their shoulders. “Okay, you two. I won’t pry.”

“Be safe!” Myungjun says, winking at the two of them. Dongmin would’ve choked on his drink if he’d been drinking anything at all.

Dongmin follows Jinwoo out of the bar and a few meters away, sighing at the lower noise volume. They walk side by side for a moment before Dongmin figures he needs to ask.

“What  _ are  _ we going to do, though?”

Jinwoo shrugs. “I thought we would just take a walk first. It’s a nice night and it gives us time to talk.”

Dongmin’s stomach twists at the idea of talking too much and running into something troublesome.

“I mean, more than being at a movie or in a loud arcade or something would.” Jinwoo smiles at him. “Not that we need to talk about something specifically. Unless you think there’s something we need to talk about?”

Dongmin thinks. They’ve had the “what went wrong” conversation and the “what happened since we broke up” conversation already. They’ve both agreed to take things slow. They’ve agreed it would be best if they thought of the relationship as brand new rather than trying to piece together their old relationship.

Dongmin shakes his head. “I don’t think we need to talk about anything.”

Jinwoo seems to deflate as he relaxes, an easy smile coming over his face. “Okay.”

  
They walk for a while in quiet, observing the people around them and the shops (most of which are closed by this hour). Not too far from Jinwoo’s tattoo shop is a group of people huddled around a busker. They join the group, shoulders pressed together as they listen to the young kid on his guitar. 

Jinwoo’s hand bumps against his. “Would it be okay if we held hands?”

Warmth spreads through Dongmin’s cheeks. He nods, and Jinwoo’s fingers slip between his. It’s easy and casual. There’s no pressure for them to be anything they aren’t. Dongmin finds himself leaning closer to Jinwoo. Whatever bad feelings there had been between them have clearly been forgotten. They’re simply two people trying to find love in one another.

 

* * *

 

 

_ 0 years. 8 months. 6 days. _

Dongmin ran his hand over Jinwoo’s collarbones for what seemed like the thousandth time. He couldn’t help it. His hair was still stuck to his forehead but that didn’t matter either. Jinwoo’s warm hand rested on his waist, his chest rising and falling beneath Dongmin’s head. Dongmin basked in the afterglow of their union without a worry in his mind. Jinwoo had said something similar just before.  _ Forget about everything else for a while and focus on me.  _

“Do you think we’ll be together for a long time?”

Dongmin picked his head up, settling his chin on Jinwoo’s chest so he could look up at him. “Why do you ask?”

Jinwoo glanced down at him. “Because I love you, and I want to love you for a long time.”

Dongmin smiled, reaching up to poke Jinwoo’s jaw. “You sap.”

Jinwoo sat up a little more. “I mean it. I want this—us being together, feeling this way—to go on for a long time. For forever. I love you, Dongmin, and I don’t see that changing any time soon. I know it sounds serious, but I just— I hope we’re together for a long time.”

Dongmin scooted up, dragging himself until he was level with Jinwoo. He kissed him lightly and let himself linger there for a short while until he pulled back. There was sincerity in Jinwoo’s eyes, but also a worry that ran deep. Dongmin had seen that worry too often in their short relationship.

“We will be.” Dongmin cups Jinwoo’s jaw, his thumb tracing Jinwoo’s cheekbone. “We’ll be together for a really, really long time. We’ll be together for so long that people will look at us and groan and think ‘they’re still together?’”

Jinwoo smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes and it fades quickly. “What if I screw things up? What if we ruin it?”

Dongmin shakes his head. “You can’t ruin it. Even if you do, we’ll fix it. I know we will.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ 2 years. 3 months. 18 days. _

Jinwoo’s hand slid over Dongmin’s book, shutting it. Dongmin sighed. “Come  _ on _ . I have to study for this—”

The look on Jinwoo’s face stopped Dongmin right away. “Jinwoo? What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell you something.” Jinwoo grabbed Dongmin’s hand from across the table. “I haven’t— I don’t tell this to many people because I’m always worried they’ll see me differently after, but I need to tell you. You’ve been so open with me about your childhood and your time before we met, and I haven’t told you anything.”

Dongmin set his other hand on top of Jinwoo’s. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable sharing, Jinwoo. It’s always been like that.”

Jinwoo shook his head. He was adamant about continuing, so Dongmin listened with an open heart. Jinwoo shared that his parents had divorced when he was young. His life had been sent into a spiral. His older brother had moved to live with relatives while Jinwoo was cared for by his mother. He’d watched her share her time between eight different men just when he was in middle school. His heart had grown small, careful to not fall victim to the same pains his mother often complained about as she lay in bed with a box of tissues and a bottle of soju. 

“I couldn’t live like that,” Jinwoo said, wiping at his eyes. “It’s why I’m always so worried with you. I don’t want something to go wrong and all of this”—he gestured vaguely between them—”to be gone in the blink of an eye.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Jinwoo looked at him carefully. “You can’t know that.”

Dongmin smiled a little. He stood, not caring if they were in the library, and leaned across the table to kiss Jinwoo. He stayed standing, looking at Jinwoo seriously.

“As long as you want me around, I will be here.” 

“What if I hurt you? What if I say something mean in the moment and it hurts you? How could you ever love me after that?”

Dongmin sat back down. “The same way that I love you now after you shared everything with me. Jinwoo, I don’t care about your past or your fears and worries. We’ll face it all together, okay?”

Jinwoo wiped his eyes again, sniffling as he nodded. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ 2 years. 9 months. 4 days. _

“I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

Dongmin turned to look at Jinwoo sharply. The theater was dark so he could hardly see his boyfriend’s face. There was a flash from the movie on screen, temporarily lighting up Jinwoo’s smiling face with an array of colors.

“What?” Dongmin whispered. “Jinwoo, we’re in the movies.”

Jinwoo shook his head. He captured Dongmin’s lips in a quick kiss that left Dongmin dizzy. “I don’t care. I’m going to ask you to marry me someday, okay?”

Dongmin did his best to hold back his laughter. “Where is this coming from?”

“From loving you. From wanting to spend the rest of my life with you.” Jinwoo kissed him again, his lips lingering against Dongmin’s longer. “When you’ve graduated and our lives are settled and we’re both happy, I’m going to ask you to marry me. And you’ll say yes.”

Dongmin smirked. He reached over the armrest to slot his fingers between Jinwoo’s. “How do you know that?”

Someone sitting behind them shushed them angrily. Dongmin ducked his head, covering his mouth to block his laughter from escaping.

Jinwoo leaned closer, whispering in his ear. “Because you said you’ll always be around if I want you to be, and I’ll always want you by my side.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ 3 years. 11 months. 31 days.  _

Dongmin swayed slowly in place with Jinwoo’s back against his chest. There wasn’t any music, but they never had needed music to dance. Music would only distract them anyway. Their eyes are glued to the clock, watching the second hand tick endlessly, slowly dragging them forward towards midnight.

“We should go to sleep.” Jinwoo leaned his head back on Dongmin’s shoulder. “We have to wake up early to go to the museum.”

“Just another minute. Don’t give up on me now.”

Jinwoo laughed, the sound vibrating against Dongmin’s ribs and pulling his own laughter out of his chest. He squeezed his arms around Jinwoo tighter and buried his face into Jinwoo’s neck, kissing him there lightly. Jinwoo sighed and Dongmin knew without needing to see that Jinwoo’s eyes were closed.

“I love you,” Dongmin whispered, arms tightening even further around Jinwoo.

“And I love  _ you _ .” Jinwoo reached back and slipped his hand into Dongmin’s hair. “My beautiful future husband.”

Dongmin snorted in amusement. “When are you going to propose to me anyway?”

“Should I do it now?”

Dongmin shook his head. “It’s too close to midnight.”

Jinwoo whined. “It would be so romantic.”

Dongmin laughed, kissing Jinwoo’s temple. “You don’t even have a ring, hush. You can do it on our next anniversary.”

“Or tomorrow.” 

Jinwoo stopped their swaying as the second hand clicked past the nine. Dongmin held his breath as it passed the ten. Jinwoo’s fingers slipped between his at the eleven.

When the second hand clicked past the top of the clock, Dongmin breathed again. “Happy anniversary, Jinwoo.”

Jinwoo turned, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. “Happy anniversary, love.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ 4 years. 6 months. 16 days. _

Dongmin opened the apartment door quietly. Maybe Jinwoo had been tired and that’s why he hadn’t shown up for their date? At the sound of the TV and Jinwoo laughing, however, Dongmin’s spirit sank lower than it was. He removed his shoes before shutting the door harder than necessary. The TV volume lowered.

“Dongmin? Are you finally home?”

Dongmin clenched his jaw, walking into the living room. Jinwoo was staring at him with confusion in his eyes. Slowly, however, his expression shifted and his mouth turned into a small “o” shape.

“Oh, no. Dongmin, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine.” Dongmin unbuckled his belt and slipped off his jacket. He avoided Jinwoo’s eyes as he climbed off the couch.

“No, it’s not. I can’t believe I forgot—”

“I said it’s fine.”

Jinwoo stopped a few feet away from him. “You’re mad at me.”

“No, I’m just—” Dongmin sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I’m just tired. I’m going to sleep.”

He left Jinwoo standing in the living room as he went to shower. When he came back out, the TV was off and Jinwoo was nowhere to be seen. Dongmin found Jinwoo already in bed, the lights dark and his back facing Dongmin’s side of the bed. Even as Dongmin crawled into the bed, Jinwoo stayed where he was.

When Dongmin woke, it was to a note from Jinwoo saying he’d gone to open the shop early.

 

* * *

 

 

_ 5 years. 4 months. 1 day. _

“I don’t love you anymore, okay?”

Dongmin took a step back. Had he heard that right? Jinwoo wasn’t looking at him, hand tight around his beer.

“I mean—”

_ He doesn’t mean that _ .

“I love you. I still care about you, but I’m not  _ in  _ love with you anymore. I don’t— It might be best if we weren’t together anymore.”

“Jin—”

Dongmin couldn’t get his entire name out. His throat had sealed itself off. His mind was blank.

“I’ve been thinking this over for a while now and something changed. I don’t feel the same way about you that I did before.”

Jinwoo walked away from him, sitting on the couch with a solemn face. Dongmin watched him sip his beer and turn on the TV.

His legs carried him to the office and he shut the door softly. That seemed to be the extent of his remaining willpower as he fell to the floor, a sob ripping painfully from his throat. Dongmin kept his eyes closed as tears escaped. If he kept his eyes closed, it would be a dream. He would leave the room after a bad nap and find Jinwoo waiting for him with arms stretched out to welcome him. 

There was something wrong. There had to be something wrong. Jinwoo had to be sick, or just tired. Dongmin’s ears were muffled so he couldn’t hear if the TV was still playing. He didn’t care. He curled in on himself on the floor. Maybe if he curled tightly enough, he wouldn’t be there anymore. He would be somewhere else. Squeezing his eyes shut didn’t take him anywhere. Dongmin lay on the floor with his hands covering his face, hoping and praying to anybody who would listen to tear Jinwoo’s words out of his mind. Nobody did answer his prayers. Nobody seemed to want to grant him sleep either. Dongmin was still wide awake as light poured in through the window and as the front door opened and shut with a resolute click.

 

* * *

 

 

_I sat there and I listened to you crying and I wanted so badly to be the person to put you back together but I didn’t know how to when I was the one who had broken you._

 

* * *

 

 

_ 6 years. 2 months. 3 days.  _

Dongmin’s tiny studio apartment has become their small group’s favorite hang out location. He has an armchair in his small living room set up now, and his dining chairs get dragged to surround his TV any time they’re over. They never fail to leave a mess of plates and cans (though Sanha does try to help clean up if he isn’t too distracted by Minhyuk). Some nights it’s movies and other nights it’s board games. This night has been neither of those. 

They each brought some item of food. Dongmin provided the drinks. They’re all huddled into the small space, sharing stories and laughing. Dongmin is certain his neighbors will complain to him tomorrow, but for the time being, he doesn’t care. Minhyuk and Sanha share the armchair (though Sanha is sitting and Minhyuk is actually on Sanha’s lap). Dongmin is beside Myungjun with Bin on the far end of the couch. Jinwoo sits on one of the dining chairs pulled next to the couch, his fingers wrapped around Dongmin’s.

The night is over too soon, however. Minhyuk and Sanha are the first to leave, as always. Myungjun and Bin stick around for half an hour longer before departing. It seems to be normal now for Jinwoo and Dongmin to be left alone in the apartment for a while.

“Thanks for having everybody over again,” Jinwoo says. “I could host, but it’s just so far out.”

“And Sanha would probably get lost on the subway again anyway,” Dongmin laughs.

Jinwoo smiles. “Want me to help you clean up?”

Dongmin sighs. “God, please. I spent 45 minutes picking up trash after last time.”

“That’s only because Byeongkwan and Chanhyuk and his girlfriend decided to stop by.”

“I still don’t know who told them where I live.”

Jinwoo laughs. “Those guys have a way of finding things out. Hey, you missed a plate.”

Dongmin follows where Jinwoo is pointing to, barely avoiding putting his foot on top of the plate in the process. It’s slow going as they clean, but it moves faster than if Dongmin had been alone. They fall onto the couch once every last piece of trash has been tossed into a bag Dongmin will take out tomorrow morning. Their hands fall naturally to the space between their legs, fingers fitting together as Jinwoo leans his head onto Dongmin’s shoulder.

“I had to do four tattoos today,” Jinwoo sighs. “Nine straight hours holding that tattoo gun in my hand. I don’t want to hold it ever again.”

Dongmin laughs. “Not even if it were to give me a tattoo?”

Jinwoo shakes his head without lifting it, musing his hair in the process. “Never again. Never ever.”

“Maybe you should go home and get some rest, then, if you’re so tired.”

Jinwoo nods, only messing up his hair further. “You’re right.”

When he sits up, his hair is a mess. Dongmin withholds his laughter as he reaches up to fix it, flattening it how he knows Jinwoo always wears it. His eyes shift to Jinwoo’s and find them looking right back at him. He’s acutely aware of the silence around them, of the feeling of Jinwoo’s hand in his palm.

“Can I kiss you?”

Dongmin doesn’t answer. He closes the gap between them instead, his free hand slipping onto Jinwoo’s shoulder. Jinwoo’s lips part under his and he grabs Jinwoo’s shoulder to steady himself. It doesn’t last nearly long enough for Dongmin to be satiated. Jinwoo is blushing when they pull apart, eyes averted.

“I should get going.”

As Jinwoo stands, Dongmin does, too. He follows him to the door, though he doesn’t open it. He settles his hand on Jinwoo’s waist by the door and swallows his nerves.

“Kiss me again.”

And Jinwoo does.

 

* * *

 

 

_ 6 years. 6 months. 11 days. _

Dongmin stares at his phone, his thumb hovering over the  _ send  _ button on the text. It’s late. It isn’t the sort of late that’s normal. Dongmin’s eyes flicker to the top of his phone screen.  _ 3:27 AM.  _ He can’t sleep because of all the thoughts swirling in his head. He reads the length text again and decides he can do better. Deleting what he had written, he instead writes a simple message and clicks send.

**Dongmin**

(3:29) I miss you

He quickly sets his phone on his nightstand, staring at the ceiling and refusing to check his phone again. Jinwoo is sleeping while thoughts are eating away at Dongmin and making it impossible to sleep. Even the city outside the apartment is quiet. Dongmin rolls to face the opposite direction of his phone, looking over his apartment in the dark instead.

His phone dings.

Dongmin grabs his phone quickly, tugging it to his face so fast that he manages to unplug it from the wall without meaning to. His heart races as he unlocks his phone (trying more than once to enter his password).

**Jinwoo**

(3:34) Do you want to come over later?

Dongmin suddenly wants nothing more than to do exactly that, but he has work in the morning. His phone is ringing before he can type out a response. A picture of himself and Jinwoo he had taken last weekend appears on the screen with  _ Jinwoo  _ displayed across the top. He answers quickly with a quiet greeting.

Jinwoo forgoes a greeting entirely. “For the record, I miss you, too.” His voice is deep and smooth, a smile coloring his words.

“You should be asleep,” Dongmin chides.

Jinwoo snorts. “You’re the one that should be asleep. You have to be at work in a few hours.”

Dongmin pulls his blankets higher up his chest, practically cuddling them. “I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking too much.”

Jinwoo hums. “Do you want to share?”

“I was thinking about us.”

“What about us?”

“About what we are. I don’t know what to call us, how to describe what’s going on between us.”

“We’re dating, aren’t we? I thought so, at least.”

Dongmin huffs. “You know that isn’t what I mean. Do I—” His brows furrow. “Can I call you my boyfriend?”

Jinwoo laughs softly. “You could call me ‘oppa’.”

Dongmin groans, covering his face as he pulls his legs up. “You’re so—”

“Amazing? Handsome? Talented? Hard working?”

“ _ Annoying _ ,” Dongmin laughs. “I’m not calling you oppa.”

He can hear the smirk in Jinwoo’s words. “Not even once.”

“Not even in your dreams.”

Jinwoo laughs, a pause following the sound. “Call me your boyfriend, then.”

Dongmin nods to himself. Silence builds between them, stretching out in the space between their words. Dongmin isn’t overly eager to fill the silence and Jinwoo doesn’t seem to be either. Dongmin simply listens. When Dongmin’s eyes close, he forces them open to check how long they’ve been on the call.  _ 30 minutes already? It doesn’t feel like it… _

“Jinwoo,” he says softly.

Jinwoo says nothing, his breathing even. Had he fallen asleep?

Dongmin grips his phone tighter. “Jinwoo, I want to tell you something but I’m scared to say it.”

Nothing.

“I understand now why you were so scared to say it all those years ago. You were scared because something like what we went through could happen and there was always the chance things wouldn’t get fixed.”

There’s only the sound of Jinwoo’s breathing from the other line.

“When you said you loved me but you weren’t in love with me, I didn’t want to believe it. I told myself it couldn’t be true because I saw the love in your eyes when you looked at me. That’s why I kept fighting for it. That’s why I kissed you before. That’s why I’ve bothered to try and fix things now. I know you love me.

“Do you remember when you said you were going to ask me to marry you? I still think about that. I still want that. I want there to be a forever for us, but I’m so scared to tell you that. The only reason I’m saying it now is because you’re asleep and you can’t even hear me. This might be the closest I ever get to saying it because I’m so scared things will break again. I don’t want to say it and then be walking on eggshells. I want to love you and be loved by you without worries or consequences, but I’m just so damn  _ scared.  _

“I’m scared to tell you that I love you. I’m scared of getting hurt again. I’m scared that one day down the road I’ll come home and you’ll have decided that fixing this was worthless and that you should’ve just kept your distance. I’m scared you’ll disappear from my life and if you did— Jinwoo, I—I just wish you would wake up and tell me you’ll never leave and that we’ll always fix things that go wrong. I wish you would wake up and show up at my front door and hold me and tell me everything will be okay and that you love me.”

The silence continues on the other end of the phone, Jinwoo’s breathing accompanied by soft rustling (likely from him shifting in bed). Dongmin sniffles and wipes the tears from his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to let everything pour out of him at once, but once he’d started talking, it was impossible to stop himself. He wraps his legs around his blankets and presses them into his chest as he lets the tears fall freely onto his pillow.

The rustling on the other end of the line stops.

“Lee Dongmin—”

Dongmin gasps at the sound of Jinwoo’s voice, covering his mouth with his hand.

“—I love you. I’m in love with you. I love every single thing about you and that never stopped. I was so stupid to try and back out, to take the easy way out to being happier when being with you makes me happier than anything else.”

“Jinwoo—”

“I love you, Lee Dongmin. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and if that means I have to take the subway at four in the morning to your apartment across town, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You aren’t. Jinwoo, no, please, just stay home and go to sleep.”

“You aren’t getting rid of me, Dongmin. I’m coming over and I’m going to hug the  _ hell  _ out of you, understand? God, you”—Jinwoo laughs—”you make me crazy. I love you.”

Dongmin can’t talk anymore. He covers his face with one hand, sniffling and trying to stop the tears from speeding down his cheeks. There’s no use in trying.

“I love you and— Dongmin, please, stop crying. You’re going to make me cry and then the hobo is going to look at me funny.”

Dongmin laughs, wiping at his eyes. “I don’t mean to cry. I’m just so happy. You’re really coming all the way over here?”

“You bet your ass I am. I’m waiting for the subway right now. There’s nobody else here. This is creepy as hell, Dongmin. You’re so lucky I love you this much. Waiting in a creepy subway station just to see you is so worth it.”

Dongmin can’t help the laughter bubbling out of him like he’s a machine. He pulls his pillow against his chest, biting on it to calm himself as much as he can.

“I’m surprised my phone still has signal. The call might drop once I’m in the train, but if it does, I’m just going to go right to texting you. Expect 30 messages that all say the exact same thing. Can you guess what they’ll say?”

Dongmin grins. “What?”

“I love you.”

Dongmin buries his face in the pillow. “You’re so stupid.”

“What? Dongmin, are you, like, suffocating yourself right now or something?”

Dongmin laughs, pulling his head out of the pillow. “I said, you’re so  _ stupid _ . You’re so stupid and I love you. I love your stupid face and your stupid laugh and your stupid smile. I love you.”

“How many times can you fit stupid into a sentence?”

“As many times as I want to.”

Jinwoo laughs then makes a soft sound. “The subway is here. I’m going to hang up so that the call doesn’t drop, but I’ll be there soon, okay? Don’t fall asleep.”

Dongmin huffs. “I’m not going to fall asleep. Be safe, okay? Text me when you’re here.”

“I think I’ll just walk up and surprise you. Okay, really, I’m hanging up. I love you, Dongmin. I love you so much.”

“I love you.”

The line goes dead and Dongmin doesn’t move. He stares at the foot of his bed with a smile splitting his face. His phone dings with a text message.

**Jinwoo**

(4:17) I love you

(4:18) I love you

(4:19) I love you

Dongmin watches each of the messages come in every minute. He fixes his hair as much as he can and still the text messages come in. They continue to come in as he sits on his couch, anticipating Jinwoo’s arrival.

There’s a quick knock on his door accompanied by Jinwoo calling his name quietly. Dongmin hardly gives Jinwoo a chance to enter his apartment before hugging him tightly. Jinwoo laughs against his shoulder and sways as he struggles to remove his shoes. Not once does he ask Dongmin to give him a minute, so Dongmin doesn’t. He keeps his arms wrapped around Jinwoo’s shoulders. Jinwoo does get his shoes off before settling his hands on Dongmin’s waist and walking him backwards. Out of the foyer and with no chance of either of them tripping, Jinwoo’s arms wrap tightly around his waist, and Dongmin feels the tears sliding down his cheeks again.

Jinwoo must feel his crying because he pulls back to look at Dongmin for a second. “Dongmin, love, don’t cry. I’m here just like you wanted. I’m here, okay?”

Dongmin nods shakily, clinging to Jinwoo. He didn’t mean to cry so much, but he couldn’t help it.

“I’m here, Dongmin. Everything is going to be okay now. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you, Lee Dongmin. I’ll always love you.”

Dongmin sniffles, wiping at his cheeks and pulling away some. “Always?”

Jinwoo’s thumb chases away tears for him as he nods. “Always. There’s not a thing in the world that could ever make me stop loving you.”

Dongmin lets Jinwoo guide him to the couch where they press together, Jinwoo’s shoulder uncomfortable on his side and their hands clammy from being together for too long. Neither of them makes a move to make themselves more comfortable, however, instead curling even closer to one another. Jinwoo rubs Dongmin’s back slowly as he falls asleep.

And Jinwoo is the one to wake him up, as well. He must have been carried to his bed sometime during the early morning. Natural light floods the living area. Dongmin pushes himself into a sitting position, rubbing at swollen eyes.

“What time is it?” he mumbles.

“A little past eleven.”

Dongmin looks up sharply. “ _ Eleven _ ? Oh, God, I’m so late—”

“I called in for you, told them you’re sick. They said it’s fine and to get better soon.”

Dongmin scoffs. “Why did you lie? Stupid.”

Jinwoo beams as if he had just been complimented. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“What have you been doing this whole time?”

Jinwoo shrugs. “Sitting around. Giving you kisses.”

Dongmin can’t believe he blushes. He swats at Jinwoo, who doesn’t bother to dodge his hand. “Giving me kisses?”

“Forehead kisses, cheek kisses, shoulder kisses. I hope that’s not weird.”

Dongmin shakes his head. “Come ‘ere.”

Jinwoo scoots to sit closer to Dongmin on the side of the bed, the smile still present on his lips. “What do you want?”

Dongmin drapes his arms over Jinwoo’s shoulders when he’s close enough. “A morning kiss.”

Jinwoo grimaces. “But you have morning breath.”

“Yours isn’t any better.”

“Hey! That’s not fair, I don’t have a toothbrush here.”

“Should get yourself one, then.”

Jinwoo stares at him, eyes shining. “Do you mean that?”

Dongmin plants a kiss on Jinwoo’s lips. “I mean it.”

 

* * *

 

 

_?? years. ?? months. ?? days. _

Dongmin rolls sideways, pushing himself into Jinwoo’s side. Jinwoo, unmovingly, groans tiredly. It’s become a routine for them; groaning as they wake up, groaning as they push themselves out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom or the kitchen or to wake up their kids. Today, there is none of that. Today is their first chance in a long time to relax and take their time getting out of bed.

“Sleep okay?” Jinwoo asks groggily, wrapping his arm around Dongmin. “Does your shoulder still hurt?”

Dongmin shakes his head, eyes still closed. “‘S okay.”

“Remind me to call my mom today so she can pick up Haein after school on Thursday.”

“And we’ll have to drop Sungmin at my parent’s before the appointment.”

Jinwoo hums. He presses a kiss to Dongmin’s forehead before rolling the rest of the way onto his side and tossing his leg over Dongmin’s hips. Dongmin can’t help but giggle, squeezing one arm under Jinwoo’s body and laying the other on top of him to hug him tightly.

“When’s our reservation?” Dongmin presses a kiss to Jinwoo’s chest, nose wrinkling at the smell of his shirt. 

“Bin said it’s at four but Sanha said five, so I’ll have to call Minhyuk.”

Dongmin sighs. “Nobody can ever agree on times. You’d think they’d be more aware for our anniversary.”

Jinwoo rubs his back slowly. “It’s fine. We still have a lot of time before we have to be there. It’s only”—Jinwoo picks up his head, glancing to the clock across the room—”half past nine.”

“Is your dad showing up after all? Your brother?”

“Everybody’s going to be there. Ten years is an important milestone.”

“Ten years.” Dongmin shakes his head slowly. “We just met yesterday. There’s no way it’s been ten years.”

Jinwoo laughs quietly. “I still love you as much as I did that first day.”

“Oh, shut up, you sap. It took you two whole months just to  _ kiss  _ me.”

“It did not. I kissed you after the first date.”

“You’re remembering wrong.”

“No,  _ you’re  _ remembering wrong.”

Dongmin knocks his knee against Jinwoo’s thigh and they both fall silent. How many mornings have they spent together now? Dongmin doesn’t even know off the top of his head how long it’s been since they first met or started dating. The numbers wouldn’t mean much anyway. Their relationship is worth more than numbers or statistics, how long they’ve been together or how many fights they’ve had. He has the memories of every day they’ve spent together, and that’s what’s important. As hard as the days had been sometimes and despite their arguments, Dongmin doesn’t want to forget any part of it.

“You’re crying again.”

Dongmin wipes at his eyes, staring at Jinwoo’s shirt in front of him. “It’s because your shirt smells.” He looks up at Jinwoo. “You’re crying, too. And you need to shave.”

Jinwoo smiles, gums showing under his lips as he bows his head to press a kiss against Dongmin’s eyebrow. “You need to be quiet and kiss me.”

And so he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hardly edited this because I just want to post it already so I'm sorry if there are any errors!! Please let me know in the comments if there are so I can fix them!
> 
>  _Anyway._ I need some input!! I'm deciding what to write next, and I need some help picking! You can check out the poll [here](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSckZf-vYfU1tLIHrcAzSZED-PnR4_R9e78scMcfNlQWq8U-uA/viewform). It would mean a ton if you took just a few minutes to read over all the ideas I have and pick your favorites!! I'll write one of the higher voted ones. And if you'd like to keep up with the development of any and all fics and get early spoilers, you can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/snibwrites)!
> 
> Thanks so much for being patient with me as I got this out! Leave me a comment below and let me know what you thought! (Did you cry? I cried while writing it, especially during Dongmin's confession near the end. Couldn't see my computer screen and had to stop writing... Oops?)

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I'm going to get the final chapter out as soon as I can but _this_ one alone took me like a month so...
> 
> But! This was inspired by the beautiful writing of [@astrorarepairs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrorarepairs/pseuds/astrorarepairs)! Specifically chapter 4 of their rare pair drabble collection which, honestly, is just too good. Go read that and yell at them for that because if they didn't write that, I wouldn't have written this.
> 
> I'd love to know what you think, though! Leave some comments~


End file.
